There's No Place Like Earth For the Holidays
by The Illustrious Crackpot
Summary: Zim tries to take over the world on Christmas Eve, and Dib tries desperately to stop him! Yes, it's a corny Christmas special! It's long, but IT'S THE SEASON OF GIVING! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**There's No Place Like Earth For the Holidays...**

(The Illustrious Crackpot)

_Merry Christmas_

In the little city of...um...city of...city of...ehhh...uhhm...

Outside the children's public "Skool", snow was falling peacefully, white drifts piling up outside the door like, well, drifts. The sky was a mild gray, and all was quiet and serene—save for the harsh, raspy voice cutting like a saw through the air outside an open window.

"It's December 24th, children," Ms. Bitters was grumbling, pacing up and down in front of the classroom in her long black shroud. "Christmas Eve. Yet another religious holiday hopelessly _commercialized_ to the point where—"

The teacher was interrupted by a small child in the front row, who made an odd squeaking sound as he raised a trembling hand. He was shaking so much that he looked almost like three separate kids sitting in the same chair and an icicle hung from his nose. "M-M-Miz Bitters?" he managed past severely chattering teeth. "C-c-c-can you please close the w-w-window?"

Ms. Bitters practically surged towards his desk as she made a ferocious hiss in return, then brought her hand down on a big red button in the middle of her desk. The floor beneath the complaining child suddenly opened up, and the small boy found himself plummeting downwards through a long, dark, dismal tunnel to the curious realm of God-knows-where. Once his screams had died out and the echoes had stopped reverberating against the classroom walls, Ms. Bitters turned back to the rest of her students. "Does anyone _else_ have any objections?" she challenged vehemently, her thick glasses and sallow complexion making her appear positively demonic.

Huddling beneath the massive snowbanks piling up in the room, the children fearfully shook their heads.

"So—_cold!_" Sarah screamed involuntarily, her long purple hair frozen stiff. She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered so hard that she began to bounce up and down in her seat. Several kids' faces were turning bright red, and those less fortunate were already experiencing frostbite.

"Oh, Ms. _Bitters_," Melvin whined, his spherical head just one huge chunk of ice, "can we p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-_pleeeeeease_ get our jackets? I thi-th-think my spleen just f-froze!"

"NO!" Ms. Bitters snapped, glaring fiercely at him. None of the cold appeared to affect her, for some odd reason. "You should consider yourselves _lucky_, children. When _I_ was a little girl, we didn't _have_ snow. That was before the meteor hit that wiped out the dinosaurs, of course." Her eyes narrowed, blazing for a moment. "After that, OHHHH, we couldn't get _enough_ snow! It snowed all day long! It snowed for entire years! The whole _planet_ froze over!" Unexpectedly, Ms. Bitters sighed. "THOSE were the good old days..."

Another child screamed as a new hunk of snow blew in through the window and smacked him in the face. "THE COLDNESS! IT BURNS!!" he shrieked, jumping up and running around in circles. Unfortunately, this action only managed to send him tumbling down the same spooky tunnel as the first complaining child, at which point he reflected that perhaps the coldness wasn't quite so bad after all.

Only Dib was too irate to mind the weather as he vigorously rubbed his arms. "Does anyone _besides_ me think it's a little _weird_," he huffed, his breath forming into annoyed ice crystals, "that _Zim's_ the only one not complaining about the temperature? Maybe it's because he's—_AN ALIEN?!_"

(At this point, all the friction generated by rubbing his arms caused Dib's coat to spontaneously burst into flames, which gave the rest of the class happiness through entertainment and warmth until Dib screamingly put it out. This has nothing to do with the story, but it'll give you some context when tapes show up on _America's Funniest Home Videos_.)

Zim raised his head at the mention of his name, quickly hiding what looked suspiciously like a frozen mongoose underneath his desk. His seat was so far from the window that he had almost no snow near him. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about," the alien replied smoothly. He leered at Dib, which somehow seemed creepier since he was wearing his human contact lenses. "I assure you, I am _just_ as cold as all the other _filthy_ Earth children." Zim then made a point of rubbing his arms and saying "Brrrrrrrrrr".

"Y-y-_yeah_, Dib!" protested another kid sitting somewhere in the back. "See? He's so cold that his skin is g-g-g-_green!_"

"HIS SKIN'S _ALWAYS_ GREEN!" Dib practically shrieked, dislodging a heap of snow from his head.

"Skin condition," Zim reminded him stolidly, then gave the human a toothy grin once he was sure that no one else was looking. Inferior humans. Zim's lavender-spotted Pak automatically regulated his temperature, even in such odd and disgusting climates this Earth possessed, so the level of his body heat remained at the Irken norm no matter what. The only downside was that this guarantee didn't extend to his disguise, so his jet-black wig had become hard as a rock. Well, GIR could have some fun with it when he got home.

Dib was fully fed up. "HE'S AN ALIEN!!" he screamed, waving his hands about crazily. Ms. Bitters was still rambling about her childhood hunting woolly mammoths, and didn't pay a bit of attention. "AN ALIEN!! _AN ALIEN!!_ AAAAAGHH!!" Then, in his annoyance Dib scooped up a handful of snow and lobbed it at Zim.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!" Zim cried as the snowball made contact with the side of his head, sizzling away at his skin. Clawing at the poisonous white matter, Zim howled in pain and jumped bodily out of his seat, running in circles around the room (and accidentally getting up to his knees in _more_ snow) before flopping, twitching, to the floor. Dib was momentarily stunned, but then remembered that snow was essentially water and smiled triumphantly.

"Score one for Earth!" he cheered, jumping on top of his desk.

"SIT DOWN, DIB!" Ms. Bitters commanded sharply, finally tearing herself away from her personal narrative. She pointed a clawlike finger at Zim, who was struggling to stand back up. "AND YOU, ZIM, GET IN YOUR SEAT! You should be thankful that I haven't sent _you_ to the 'underground classrooms' yet."

Zim hissed under his breath, rubbing the side of his head that had been hit, and clambered back into the chair. He shot a piercing glare at Dib, who stuck his tongue out in return. "Filthy stinkbeast," Zim muttered, his three-fingered hands curling into fists. "Such revenge shall I give that...that...that a _moose_ would be scared of ZIM! Oh, yes, yeessss, vile moose..."

Ms. Bitters, if she heard Zim, was ignoring him. Picking up a wooden pointer and a globe, the spooky teacher continued with her lecture. "Now you see, class," she rasped, jabbing the pointer firmly at the top of the globe, "_this_ is the North Pole. Home of polar bears and little unionized elves who only exist because your parents say so." Having successfully destroyed the childhoods of most of the students in her room, Ms. Bitters then stuck her pointer onto the bottom of the globe, actually spearing the plastic model with it. "And this is the _South_ Pole. Despite corporate insistences, penguins live at the _south_ pole and _not_ the north. It's all a dastardly plot that will bring down civilization as we know it." In a quick movement, Ms. Bitters removed the wooden pointer from the globe and instead held it in her two wrinkled hands. "However, with global warming to deal with, both poles will end up melting and drown us all in a massive tidal wave, destroying all life on the planet." The pointer snapped in half. "Isn't that lovely."

Dib gasped in shock and horror, then stole a glance at Zim. The alien boy was staring blankly at the chalkboard, but it might just have been an act. "This is terrible!" Dib agonized in a harsh whisper, his eyes widening. "If Zim heard what Ms. Bitters said about the ice caps, he might think up a plot to melt them and drown out human life! The entire Earth is in danger! If I don't stop him, he'll—"

"DIB'S TALKING TO HIMSELF AGAIN!" a girl named Zita shouted, the frozen particles of her breath cracking painfully against the back of Dib's head. Dib promptly shut up, though his thoughts continued the expository narration in private as his face twisted into several rather unlikely depictions of anxiety and terror.

Zim, on the other hand, was still watching the chalkboard with an expression as empty as the space inside his head. Then out of nowhere he sat up with a jolt, knocking his chair into the desk of the child behind him. A diabolical smile stole across his face as he got an idea—an _awful_ idea. Zim got a wonderful, _awful_ idea! "YEESSSS!!" he cried, extending his fists to the sky as he pushed back his chair and stood up. "PURE BRILLIANCE! Of course, because I am _ZIIIIIIIM!!_" Not noticing or not minding the stares of the other children—probably the former—Zim began to laugh in a very evil and alienlike manner. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" he laughed, puffing out his tiny chest as the force of his laughter made his entire body wrack with spasms. "WAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—"

"SHUT UP, ZIM!" Ms. Bitters barked, and hit him over the head with one of the remaining halves of the pointer.

* * *

Inside Zim's display living room, the tiny robot GIR was lounging on the couch watching television. His luminescent blue eyes were wide as he stared unblinkingly at the TV set, where a blue/purple creature with a hooked nose was watching a tall man in a top hat walk down a crowded city street. A line of text along the bottom of the screen described the program as "A Muppets Christmas Carol".

"_Scrooge liked the cold,"_ the hook-nosed creature was saying in a nasally voice. _"He was hard, and sharp as a flint—secret and self-contained; as solitary as an OYSTER."_

GIR giggled delightedly as a chorus of voices resumed a song they had been singing before. "_He_ got a nose like a _tuuuuube_ sock!" he squealed, clapping his hands together.

At that moment, the door slammed open and Zim stepped in, still wearing the human disguise. Following him was a snowdrift, which had been propped up against the door and now spilled into the room. Zim was twitching from having to brave the gauntlet of partly-solidified water, and his skin was steaming in a painful-looking manner. Nevertheless, GIR looked up and smiled cheerfully. "HIYA, MASTAH!" he burbled, launching himself at Zim and latching onto his head with an insane giggle.

"GET OFF MY HEAD!" Zim barked, and GIR slid back down, bringing the human wig and a pile of snow with him. Zim's antennae popped up, cramped after being stifled for so long, and he rubbed them gingerly. The flickering light of the TV captured his attention. "More hideous Earth television?!" he demanded, taking out his contact lenses to reveal his large, crimson eyes. He stared at the TV set, then when he couldn't determine the plot after three seconds he narrowed his eyes annoyedly. "GIR, what is this?"

"'Is a Christmas movie!" GIR explained, poking the frozen wig. Once he determined that it was hard as a rock, he hit himself over the head with it. "They playin' aaaaaaall movies 'bout Christmas, 'cus it's CHRIS'MAS EVE!!"

"Yes, yes, Earth holiday trash," Zim dismissed, suddenly uninterested but still watching the screen from the corner of his eye. On the TV, the camera cut to show a green character, lizardlike in appearance, with two eyes on top of its head like ping-pong balls. As soon as he'd spotted it, though, Zim gasped in a flurry of panicked emotion and dove in front of the set. "IS THAT AN IRKEN INVADER?!" he cried, his face mere inches from the TV. "It CAN'T be! No other Irkens were given any special missions in this sector!" A terrible thought crossed his mind. "An interloper?! A friend of _Tak's?!_"

GIR looked up from banging his head on the wig. A slight crack had formed in his forehead, but that didn't stop him from screeching in delight as he noticed what Zim was staring at. "_Kermit the Frog!_" he screamed, pushing Zim out of the way and literally pressing his face up against the screen. "I GOTS HAPPY FEEEEEEEEEET!!"

Zim picked himself up off the floor as GIR began to hum a garbled, self-imagined version of "Bein' Green". Though still a bit suspicious, Zim determined that this mysterious new "Kermit" was not currently a threat. So deciding, he dealt with more _serious_ matters first, closing the door and vacuuming up the snowdrifts already melting into dangerously acidic puddles on the floor. This having been accomplished, and not an Irken skin cell lost in the process, Zim stalked to the trash can in the back of the room and clambered inside. At the touch of his booted feet, the bottom of the can immediately receded down a tube, carrying Zim with it into the bowels of his underground base. After a moment it stopped, and Zim stepped out of the pressurized chamber and into the observatory.

"COMPUTER!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the huge cylindrical room. "SHOW ME THE SOUTH POLE!"

"**Processing,"** a disembodied voice rumbled mechanically, and a small set of oculars descended, stopping just in front of a chair in the center of the room. Zim climbed up and settled himself on the dark red throne, leaning forward to look into the eyepiece. A large grin spread across his face, and he began to laugh maniacally again before erupting into a coughing fit and lapsing into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

_Happy Hanukkah_

Up on ground level, Dib loomed on the sidewalk before Zim's house. Snow continued to fall, collecting heavily on the sleeves of his heavily-padded winter coat and on his fuzzy gray earmuffs. He pulled his mitten-encased hands out of his pockets and blew on them, mostly to redirect the warm air to his uncovered face, then continued to glare at Zim's house.

"If Zim's going to melt the polar ice caps," Dib informed no one in particular, his breath forming snow cones in the air, "he'll have to fly there in his spaceship. Since the ship is stored in the 'attic' of his house, I'll be able to see from _right here_ if he leaves!" Looking down at his feet through his fogged-up glasses, Dib tried to tense his foot muscles inside his black boots. "Hmmm. I can't feel my toes. Oh well. No sacrifice is too big for _saving all of mankind!!_"

Dib suddenly paused. "Why am I saying all this out loud?" he wondered, then resumed glowering at the unconventional, narrow green-and-purple house.

At length, Dib heard footsteps and turned around to see his sister Gaz walking up behind him. She too was covered from head to foot in the heaviest winter gear imaginable, but she still managed to find a way to play her GameSlave 2 even though the gloves made her fingers at least twice as big as the tiny buttons.

"What're you doing?" Gaz grumbled disinterestedly past a thick yellow scarf, not even looking up as she continued to slay pixelized vampire pigs.

Dib struck an impressive pose—well, as impressive as can be expected when one is muffled by a coat as thick as a pair of mattresses—and declared, "PROTECTING THE EARTH!"

Gaz snorted. "By staring at Zim's house?" she clarified, her thumbs still maneuvering deftly across the GameSlave's keypad.

"Ee-yup," replied Dib, smiling so widely his ruddy cheeks dug into the lenses of his glasses. He punched one mitteny fist into the other for emphasis. "If Zim leaves in his spaceship, I'll know he's going to do something nasty to the polar ice caps and try to drown out all life as we know it. THEN I'll stop him, and bring him back to be examined in a _science lab_ and PROVE to the world that he's an _alien!_"

"Uh-HUH." Gaz continued squinting down at the GameSlave's screen, and they both stood in silence broken only by the beeps and whirs of the video game. Then, after a few minutes, Gaz looked up at Dib for the first time in that entire conversation.

"If he leaves in his _spaceship_," she observed dryly, "how're you gonna _follow_ him?"

Dib began to answer, then stopped and closed his mouth. Gaz chuckled mirthlessly. "If you're going to stare at Zim's house all afternoon," she informed her brother as she began walking away, "then I hope you already bought me a Christmas present—or suffer my undying wrath of a thousand cursed souls burning in the fiery pits of the abyss." Gaz continued walking, as if satisfied with the threat, then paused and turned back. "And just to tell you, I already _found_ that vampire piggy doll you hid under your bed."

Gaz then departed calmly as if nothing had happened. For a moment Dib's heart skipped a beat, but then he remembered the Bloaty's Pizza Hog coupons he'd squirreled away for just such an emergency. Gaz would never _intentionally_ look inside his "Evidence-that-Zim's-an-alien-and-wants-to-kill-us-all" suitcase. (Unfortunately neither would the government or the Swollen Eyeball, but that was another story.) So his soul was saved for Christmas Eve. But, more pressingly, how to follow Zim...

"YES!! THAT'S IT!!" Dib cried as a lightbulb turned on inside his head. (Not _literally_, that would be _painful_.) "IT'S SO OBVIOUS! RIGHT AT HOME, I'VE GOT—"

He suddenly stopped as he realized that he was talking out loud again, and instead turned back around and scurried home.

Back in Zim's living room, GIR's head snapped back inside the house from where it had been stuck out the open window. In the midst of introducing his rubber piggies to friendly-looking snowflakes, he had heard the entire conversation between the big-headed kid and his scary sister. GIR's eyes narrowed and blazed bright red. **"There is a threat to the mission!"** GIR ejaculated, his auxiliary voice circuits making him sound like he was constipated. Still in duty mode, GIR ran for the secret entrance trash can to inform his master—

—then the on-screen Muppets burst into song, and GIR's color returned to normal as he plopped himself in front of the TV again.

* * *

"GIR!" Zim snapped, tearing his eyes from the telescope ocular. "GIR, come down to the observatory!! We must wreak evil in the cause of..._EVIL!!_"

GIR's head emerged from an opening in the cavernous walls of the observatory room. "Aaaaaawwwww," he moaned, his robot antenna drooping. "But it's the Poopin' Monkey commercial!"

Zim shuddered very violently, accidentally twisting his squeedlyspooch into a knot and receiving an amount of discomfort that can only be called the Irken equivalent of a hernia. "Don't those humans have _enough_ filthy waste products without making TOYS to create _more?_" he gasped, wobbling from the severe pain until his Pak manually reconfigured his organ. Returning to the matter at hand, the alien narrowed his eyes at GIR. "Get down here!"

The little robot's eyes watered—it was actually a misdirected fuel line for his jets that had somehow ended up inside GIR's eyebulbs, but because of the blue caps filtering over the lights it looked like the SIR unit was crying. "You don' _'ppreciate_ me," he blubbered, his voice circuits sounding garbled and indistinct. "Wha' 'bout what _I_ want? I _work_ an' _work_ an' _work_ an' _work_ and all _you_ do for _me_ is—"

Zim interrupted confusedly, raising a single clawlike finger as though he was about to conduct an imaginary orchestra but suddenly forgot the proper gesticulations. "But...you _don't_ work."

There was a long silence, then GIR cocked his head. "Oh _yeaaaaaaah_," he realized, then with a squeal jumped out of the opening and smashed into the floor twenty feet below. Zim stared at him for a while, then as the SIR reassembled himself Zim went on with his villainous monologue.

"GIR," Zim began, pacing pointedly up and down in front of the observing chair, "GIR, I learned something QUITE _useful_ in that horrid Skool today. Just after that _hideous_ DIB threw that 'snow'-rot at my _brilliant_ Invader mind!" He shook his fists almost involuntarily, throwing a properly villainous silent temper tantrum, but then he paused and thought about what what he'd just said. "Eh, I mean...HEAD!" Zim amended, scratching his antennae dizzily. "With...uh...with my mind INSIDE!" He turned to GIR, who had just finished putting himself back together, and gestured feebly. "You know, he was...aiming at my mind, and..."

At long last, Zim gave up that line of discussion and started on a new one. "FILTHY HUMAN!" he shouted for good measure, then resumed pacing. "Ehhhhhhh...GIR..." The little robot looked up from rubbing his face in the observing chair. "Are you familiar with the South Pole?"

GIR was quiet for a minute, then his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth. "YES," he decided with an odd squelching noise, then giggled slightly. "It smells like llamas."

Zim went on pacing, not seeming to acknowledge the remark until he emitted an oddly-pitched "HMMM" sound. "Yes, yes, llama indeed," he muttered, scratching his chin. Turning back to GIR, he stopped pacing but instead stood inhumanly erect on his spindly legs. "GIR, do you know what I'm going to _do_ at the South Pole that will DESTROY all humankind as we know it, paving the pathway for a new and even LARGER Irken Empire?"

A snatch of the conversation he'd heard before remained undeleted in GIR's data canister, so he excitedly regurgitated it. "'Re we gonna melt the polar ice caps and drown out the human _race?!_" GIR bubbled enthusiastically, jumping up and down almost spasmodically.

Zim blinked. "Where'd you get _that _dumb idea?" he asked suspiciously, then shook his head and muttered something derogatory about alien bunnies. Marching impressively to a computer bank in the corner of the room, Zim glided his fingers across the holographic keys, pulling down a few menus and finally selecting an option. "GIR, look at this," he commanded, and the walls of the room suddenly became a huge projector display of—

"PENGUIIIIIIIIIINS!!" GIR screamed, rocketing himself at the holographic image of a two-story-tall penguin. The entire hologram was of a snowy landscape, peppered generously with the black aquatic fowl. There were penguins everywhere to be seen, short ones, tall ones, thin ones, fat ones, and a variety of other Seussical deviations, all cavorting merrily and totally oblivious of the unearthly attention they were receiving at that very moment.

"Yes, GIR," Zim cackled triumphantly, his hands on his hips as he threw back his head for the proper pose, "_penguins!_ Earth creatures of _slime_ and _dirt!!_"

"And PENGUIN!!" added GIR, trying desperately to hug the hologram. Doing this caused the electromagnetic pulse of the generator to fry him to a crisp, but that didn't stop him from attempting it repeatedly throughout the conversation.

"LIIIIIIIES!!" howled Zim, but then he calmed down slightly as he realized that this was not a fact to be suspicious of. "Ehhhh...ahem," he coughed, then smiled evilly to make up for any lost amazingness. "Yessss, GIR, _penguins_, Earth creatures of slime and dirt—" He paused as he noticed that the burned and blackened GIR was waiting expectantly. Zim heaved a sigh. "..._AND_ penguin."

"EEEEYAHAHAA!!" GIR squealed, clapping his hands and dancing around in circles before landing on his head in the observatory chair.

Zim took in a mighty breath of his own superior Irken aura, then continued. "These Earth penguin-beasts, as you MIGHT already know," he resumed, gesturing to the hologram, "are much beloved by ALL the human slime-weenies. _Everybody_ loves them."

GIR sniffled with a sad smile, still upside-down. "It's soooooo truuuuuuuuue..." he sighed before falling off the chair.

"OF COURSE IT IS!!" Zim shouted, accidentally touching the holographic generator panels and receiving a massive electrical shock. There was a few seconds' pause as his Pak rebooted his nervous system and Zim stood up, albeit woozily and with smoking antennae. "COMPUTER," he barked garbledly, one eye twitching open and shut, "the ne-n-_next_ file!!"

"**Next file loading,"** the computer promised, and the hologram from the South Pole was replaced by an image of a movie poster that _also_ depicted penguins. Zim pointed an accusatory—and now _healed_—finger at the English title.

"THEY WROTE AN ENTIRE EARTH _STINK_-MOVIE ABOUT THE CREATURES MARCHING!!" he proclaimed. His hands were curled into fists again now that his wind was back. "These penguin-units the humans find...eh...what was the word?"

"SQUISHY!!" GIR squealed. Zim raised an eyebrow ridge, thinking it over.

"No, I don't think it was...AH, YES! THEY FIND THEM _CUTE!!_" The Irken was intensely excited, as proven by the fact that he didn't seem to notice when GIR attached himself to Zim's head again. "And I'm sure that even _you_, GIR, can remember how easily they were overcome by the cuteness of that hamster P—GET OFF MY HEAD!!"

GIR obligingly slid off, and Zim quickly rubbed his Irken skin free of any stupidity-germs the little robot might have given him. Glaring irritably at the SIR, who stared back in all innocence, Zim let out yet another annoyed breath. "GIR," he hissed in a soft it's-all-I-can-do-not-to-kill-you voice, "GIR, are you going to sit QUIETLYYYYYY until I'm finished?" His voice reverberated almost ridiculously on the word "quietly", something an Irken behavioral analyst would have brought up in a few years had Zim not been beyond therapy.

The SIR unit rolled this new order around in his data canister, testing out its prospects, then shook his head emphatically. "NOPE!" he chirped, his tongue lolling out again.

Grinding his tombstone-like teeth, Zim snapped his fingers authoritatively. A robotic arm slid out of a nearby computer bank holding a roll of something gray and shiny. Working expertly, it ripped off a sticky strand, reached over to the enraptured GIR and duct-taped his mouth shut before retracting back into the bank.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah," Zim sighed, revelling in the silence. Then he snapped back to attention and went on with the narration of his evil plan. "Now, GIR, these penguin stink-things are how we shall at last DE-_STROY_ THE HU_MAAAAAANS!!_ If we turn these frightfully '_cute_' creatures against them, they shall be POWERLESSSS!! Powerless before the awesomeness of ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!!"

Past the duct tape, GIR mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a question regarding a pasture of cows and a rubber chicken. However, Zim pretended that it was a relevant query and expounded on it.

"No, no, it shall be nothing like that FILTHY hamster disaster!" he reassured the robot, who was scratching his head confusedly. "This time, ZIM has _learned_. Angry creatures with firepower will destroy secret alien bases." He rubbed his hands together, emitting a low cackle. "No, GIR, I will send these penguins to strike in a way that I will be quite safe, but that the _humans_ will CRUMBLE pathetically." Zim inhaled deeply, then made his dramatic proclamation: "I'M GOING TO TURN EARTH PENGUIN-BEASTS INTO _LAWYERS!_"

"MMMMMPHHAAAAYHHH!!" GIR applauded, dancing to make up for his temporary muteness. Zim waited a moment to revel in the glory of being himself, then refocused.

"TO THE VOOT CRUISER!" he cried, running to the elevator. GIR hopscotched after him, tripping over his own feet twice. "Computer, READY THE VOOT CARRIER! I'VE GOT EARTH _MUCK_ TO CATCH!"

"**Voot Carrier Ready,"** the computer announced, sending a bubblelike apparatus up a tube to the Cruiser's hangar. After doing this, it paused for reflection, then sent a quick search through its internal data system. What it found was slightly alarming, even being (as it was) a computer, and it immediately sent a message up to its master.

Zim was sitting in the Cruiser and warming up the engines when an intercom tube suddenly descended from the ceiling just above his head level. **"Er, master..."** the computer's resonant voice rumbled through the tube, sounding troubled. **"Master, it is the human holiday known as 'Christmas Eve'. Are you certain that it would be wise to—"**

"HUMANS STINK!" Zim shouted over the roar of the engines. He glared at the intercom tube, and somewhere in its deep circuitry the computer winced. "And if you try to stop me over something like THAT, I'll...uh..._do something nasty that you won't like!_"

There was a sigh as the intercom tube retracted. **"Yes, master,"** the computer replied, then set itself on temporary "Sleep" mode. Zim muttered something about inferior models, then his antennae jumped in sudden realization. GIR wasn't there.

"GIR!" he barked, standing up and poking his head out of the bubblelike windshield of the Cruiser. "GIR, where are you? Come to ZIIIIIIIIIM!"

GIR, however, had no intention of doing so. On his way upstairs, he had stopped by the TV and was now eagerly filling his data can with another movie and his titanium stomach with Cheez-its. (He had just eaten through the duct tape.) In the hangar, Zim let out a cross between a huffy snort and an exasperated whine.

"VERY WELL!" he snapped, sitting back down and closing the cockpit bubble behind him. "DISOBEY YOUR MASTER, USELESS ROBOT! ZIM CAN DESTROY ALL HUMANKIND WITHOUT YOOOOOU!!"

At that proclamation, the purple roof of the house split open. With a sputtering roar the compact purple Voot Cruiser zoomed out, followed magnetically by the circular Voot Carrier. But in a whoosh and a puff of smoke, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Happy Ramadan_

Inside a dark, imposing-looking house, a kettle whistled on a stove. Gaz turned the burner off with a casual flick and picked the kettle up, pouring the boiled water into a cup already half-filled with brown powder. Adding a splash of milk, Gaz sat back in her chair and sipped the hot chocolate. She was dimly aware of Dib yelling something stupid about the fate of the earth and the rumbling sound of the garage door opening, but she couldn't have cared much less. Then, after a dull roar, everything was quiet again.

Very quiet.

Gaz put down her mug and cast a glance in the direction of her father's laboratory. All was still. No rattle of tools, nor monologue describing a new invention. All complete silence.

"That jerk," Gaz muttered, her eyes squinted so far closed that they seemed almost shut. "He's not even going to be home for Christmas Eve."

There was another moment of deafening silence, then with firm resolution Gaz pushed back her chair and stalked to the pantry, rooting around until she found what she needed. Following that she went out in the garage, grunted annoyedly as she realized that Dib had left the garage door open and closing it before she got hypothermia. Once that was done, she found an empty cardboard box and took it back into the kitchen, where she worked for a short while. Then, with the box tucked under her arm, Gaz, still wearing her normal stoic expression, opened the door to her father's lab and clicked the lights on. In the corner was a matter-transfer device, which her father sometimes used when he needed to get to work quickly. Putting the box on the faintly glowing platform, Gaz marched over to the control pad and typed in a series of commands. After an instant, the box had vanished in a crackle of light.

Gaz stood there for a moment more, then shrugged emotionlessly and tromped back upstairs.

At Membrane Labs, a pimply-faced teenager suddenly burst into the Professor's office. "Th-this package addressed to you came by matter-transfer, sir," he squawked, putting a cardboard box on the celebrity-slash-scientist's lab bench and retreating out the door to go order some pizzas.

Professor Membrane glanced upwards from his latest dimension-penetrating invention and looked at the delivery curiously through his protective goggles. "A package? For me?" he asked in a booming voice, although there was nobody else there. Stooping down from his immense height, Professor Membrane picked up the box and peeled off the masking tape.

Pulling back the cardboard flaps, he was surprised to find a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

* * *

As he pulled up in front of Zim's house, the first thing Dib saw was the roof split wide open like a gaping cavern. "NOOO!!" he shouted, jumping out of his vehicle and running up the walkway. "I'm TOO LATE! ZIM'S GONE! MANKIND IS DOOMED! _AND I CAN'T STOP YELLING THINGS OUT LOUD!!_"

Dib collapsed upon the doorstep and sobbed hysterically into his mittens. Snow was collecting on his spiked black hair, a final mockery, and he shivered with the still-falling snow as well as with the dread. But as he did, something caught his attention—there were flickering lights showing through the window. Dib leapt to his feet, then sidestepped the attack gnomes' defensive perimeters and dove in front of the open shutters. He pressed his face against the glass, then backed away and wiped off the frost with his mittens before looking in again. There was Zim's pet robot, watching television and guzzling an entire carton of eggnog.

"There's Zim's pet robot, watching television and guzzling an entire carton of eggnog!" Dib cried triumphantly to no one in particular, punching the air. "HE would know where Zim's gone!" The boy paused, then slapped himself on the forehead. "Why am I still saying this out _loud?_"

Rushing haphazardly back towards the door (and slipping on a patch of ice as he did so), Dib grasped the doorknob and turned it experimentally. The door was unlocked. Not believing his luck, and saying so out loud, Dib walked right in only to have his face collide with a small silver-and-blue robot.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEheeheeheehee!!" GIR squealed, hugging Dib's large head and nestling his own metal dome against Dib's pointy hair. Dib screamed, stumbled, then fell onto his back like a turtle. Unfortunately, this meant that he was technically outside the house, and so it would be rational to conclude that Dib's entire back was now covered in snow.

"GET OFF OF MEEEEEEE!!" Dib cried, his voice a few octaves higher than normal and a bit hoarse from the effort. GIR paused, then his eyes flashed red and he jumped off. Immediately after that, his color scheme reverted back to normal.

"Okey-DOKEY!" he giggled loudly, then did a very short dance in place. Once the little robot had deemed that Dib—who was shaking himself free from snow and standing tremblingly up—had appreciated the recital enough, GIR pulled a carton of eggnog seemingly from nowhere, ripped the top open and began to slurp noisily from it. The little robot stared blankly at Dib, who was trying to compose himself.

"Um," Dib began brilliantly, scratching his head. His thick black winter coat was making him uncomfortable in the heat of the house, but he kept it on as padding in case the robot attacked him again. Unnerved by GIR's gaze and by the sinister-looking trail of eggnog leaking out over his metal chin, Dib glanced from side to side in an effort to look at anything else. The flickering patterns of the TV caught his attention, so he looked at that.

On the screen was a two-dimensional animated cartoon, with a creature that looked like a penguin but possessed an inordinately large beak—or, technically, a nose. The penguin had on a red bowtie and brown aviator goggles, and was writing purposefully on a small slip of paper.

"_Please, sir, I have only one request this Christmas,"_ a reedy, nasal voice-over recited. _"One passion, one wish: some penguin wings...that WORK."_

Dib didn't know it, but at that very moment he was witnessing one of the corporate penguin-related plots Ms. Bitters had described just that morning. However, he didn't care much, as the Christmas banner adorning the bottom of the screen reminded him of why he was there.

"DO YOU KNOW WHERE ZIM—" he blurted, turning back to GIR—but GIR was gone.

"WHAAAAAAAT??" Dib began to break down again. "WHERE IS IT?! I NEED THAT ROBOT!! WHERE DID IT GOOOOOO?!" He dove to the floor and looked panickedly under the couch, then inside the closet where he jumped in terror as two ill-made robots shouted "WELCOME HOME, SON!". There was no part of the room he didn't scour—he looked behind the TV (where the penguin had randomly joined up with a scruffy-looking orange cat), he checked inside the seat cushions of the armchair, he even jumped onto the couch and pulled the scary-looking monkey picture off the wall to see if GIR was hiding behind there.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Dib wailed, shaking his fists in the air. "I've come _too far_ for this to happen!! Where _is_ that stupid robot?!"

Suddenly, GIR's face appeared smilingly uspide-down in front of Dib's eyes, and the sharp contours of his legs dug slightly into Dib's skull. "I _liiiike_ yoooou."

Not surprisingly, Dib screamed and blacked out for a minute or two. When he woke up again, there was a very fake-looking green dog sitting on his chest. The dog, its felt tongue sticking out, waved cheerfully.

"Helllloooo!" he chirruped. This time, Dib forewent any opening remarks and simply scrambled out from under GIR and stood defiantly before him.

"All right, evil scummy alien robot..._scum!_" he accused, pointing a mittened finger imperiously at the disguised robot. GIR scratched his head with a "paw", much like a real dog would. "WHERE'S ZIM?!"

GIR remained silent, completely ignoring the human as he slurped eggnog from a new carton and continued grooming himself in a doglike manner. Dib's eye twitched as he waited for a response, but GIR continued to act as if Dib wasn't there. After about three minutes, Dib still in the same accusatory position, GIR suddenly jumped and stared at Dib as if he hadn't known he was there. His dog hood flopping off, GIR cocked his head to one side. "What'cha DOOOOIN'?"

Dib clawed at his spiky hair. "AAAAAAAARGH!!" he howled, smashing his head against the wall. ...This didn't turn out to be such a good idea. Clutching his head to try to stop the throbbing, Dib whirled back around to face GIR with every ounce of annoyance that he possessed. "WHERE IS _ZIM?!_"

GIR blinked at him, the blue light in his eye sockets fizzling slightly as they recharged. "Where's mastah'?" he asked.

"YEEEEEEES!"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." GIR pondered aloud, slurping from the eggnog carton. He turned back to Dib. "Y'mean mastah with spiky hair an' pig hoofs an' magical wings that make cream cheese?"

It was Dib's turn to blink. "Uhhhhhhhh..._Zim_," he repeated skeptically.

"Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh..." GIR replied, then stared up at Dib in surprise. "Do you know mastah?" he asked incredulously.

Dib spasmed. "YES!!"

Giggling, GIR came to a decision. "You got a big head!" he squealed, leaning to one side and staring at it.

"No, I _don't!_"

"Yuh-huh."

Dib slapped a palm across his face, dragging his hand downward until it stretched his skin. "Look, robot," he cried exasperatedly, "I know _you_ don't care, but my entire RACE is in DANGER! WHERE IS ZIM?!"

The little robot slurped down another pint of eggnog, then looked up at Dib with an innocent grin. "D'ya _reaaaaaaally_ want ta' know?" he asked.

"YES!"

"'Re ya _suuuuuuure?_"

"YESSS!!"

"Really really REALLY sure?"

"_YES!!_"

"Def-ee-nitt-ly SURE?"

Dib was really fed up by now. "**YES!!**" he shouted, stomping his foot forcefully. He punched the wall for emphasis, then shuddered in convulsions of pain and blew on his knuckles. GIR broke open a new carton, this time not even eggnog but straight half-and-half, and began guzzling. After a short pause, though, he cocked his head again with a disappointed sigh.

"Aaaaaaaaw...I fergot what the question was."

There was a moment of silence broken only by the tinny sounds of the TV as Dib attempted to resist the urge to jump on the couch and start babbling gibberish. "WHERE," he hissed quietly, curling his hands into mitteny fists, "IS, _ZIM?_"

Tilting his head back, GIR dumped the rest of the half-and-half down his throat and burped metallically. "Eeeyeaaaaaaaaaaaaah, _master!_" he realized, pointing in a random direction. "He went ta' the South Pole." At that, GIR very calmly sat down in front of the TV and stared hypnotically at the screen again.

"The South Pole!!" Dib gasped aloud, not seeming to remember that GIR was in earshot. "I was _right_, he IS going to attack the ice caps!" He clutched the sides of his head. "This is TERRIBLE! I have to do something! I'm the only one who _can!_" At this, Dib drew himself up dramatically. "Because _I_—"

He was rudely interrupted as an empty half-and-half carton was speedily introduced to his forehead. "SHHHHHHHHHH!!" GIR admonished, layering the human with robot spittle (a mixture of Irken nitrogen and gasoline). "I'm _watchin'_ the MOVIE!!"

"Ah, right, sorry," Dib apologized hurriedly, then tore out the door. He had to move fast, or else the world as he knew it was doomed—and this was a big enough problem that he didn't even stop to yell it out loud.

* * *

Zim was cruising easily now, even in the despicably thick Earth atmosphere. With a satisfied grin, he put the ship on "Autopilot" and put his feet up on the dashboard. There was no hurry. Either way, once he reached the South Pole, all mankind was doomed. Why rush it?

Suddenly, though, Zim lurched forward as an idea occurred to him. "MMM-_HMMM!_" he "MMM-_HMMM!_"ed, sliding his legs off the control panel and punching up a code on the Irken touch-screen. "That's it!" he realized, rubbing his hands together excitedly as a small video screen unfolded itself in front of him, buzzing with static. "I _must_ inform my Tallest of my imminent conquest! Oh, they'll be so PLEASED!"

After a moment or two, an image appeared on the screen of the two Tallest, Irkens in large robotic suits (red and purple, respectively), in the starship the Massive with annoyed expressions plastered on their faces. A muffled _boom_ filtered through the Voot Cruiser's speakers, and the onscreen image shook. The Tallest wobbled with the screen, the purple-suited one actually falling over as his accordingly-colored robotic suit lost balance. Shielding his head with his arms, the red-suited Tallest glared at Zim through the screen.

"_WHAT do you WANT, Zim?!"_ he snapped irritably as a second tremor shook the image. _"If you DON'T mind, we're in the MIDDLE of a battle with the RESISTY!"_

Zim chuckled airily and casually waved a hand. "Of _course_ I don't mind, my Tallest!" he reassured them, then leaned close in towards the screen as his eyes widened. "MY, you two are looking TALL today!"

The purple-suited Tallest scrambled to his feet, pointing with a robotic claw at various off-camera officers. _"Start using those blinky-lighty-thingies!"_ he demanded in a shrill voice that was even higher than his normal tones._ "Over there! You guys start doing...stuff! And YOU! Press that big button that says 'Do not push'! I have NO idea what it does, but push it anyways! And you—"_ In the midst of all his frantic directing, the Tallest suddenly caught sight of the video screen and jumped. _"Holy cow, what's Zim doing here?!"_

Bursting with excitement, Zim emitted an involuntary "Squeee!!" before clearing his throat and looking appropriately Invaderlike. "I just wanted to tell you, my Tallest, that I will finally CRUSH THE FILTHY HYUUUUMANSSSS!!"

He waited expectantly for the Tallests' reaction, which was to shout _"Whooooooa!!"_ as the Massive lurched again. Waving his robot-suit's arms desperately to keep balance, the red-suited Tallest nearly slammed into the video screen. _"Not NOW, Zim!!"_ he commanded testily.

"WELL," Zim began dramatically, his minuscule Irken mind not registering the directive, "it _is_ a BRILLIANT plan. You see, the Earth is home to this odd creature called a 'penguin', the purpose of which is to cause human muck-beasts to grow WEAK with AWE!!" He shook his fist meaningfully at this point. "So, my in_geeeeeeeeenious_ plan is to turn these creatures AGAINST the humans!" He attempted to smile winningly at the video screen, but it just made his face stretch to almost ridiculous proportions. "Pretty good, right?"

The two Tallest exchanged a look. _"You called us up just to tell us THAT?!"_ demanded the red-suited one, who looked ready to smash the communications screen.

"_These calls are COLLECT, you know!"_ his purple counterpart griped. _"The charge for these communications are all coming out of the Empire's POCKET!!"_

"But my _Tallest_," Zim explained in soothing tones, "I have not the _monies_ to pay it myself! And I shall repay _all_ of it once I have _conquered_ this slimy mudball and, you know, gone on talk shows about it and stuff." He paused, then something registered in the back of his mind. "AH YEEEESS!" he cried, gripping the sides of the screen in excitement. "And to further the _scalding _HUMILIATION of being conquered so easily, I'm destroying the Earth race on the human holiday of Christmas!"

Despite himself, the red-suited Tallest cocked his head in curiosity, blinking his rectangular scarlet eyes. _"Christmas?"_ he inquired just as the Massive was bombarded with another laser charge.

Zim huffed in annoyance. "Yes, yes, some useless human holiday FILTH about a season of giving and how men and fellows are both equal or something. BUT YOU NEED NOT WORRY! It is nothing the Irken Armada should take heed of." He gave an exaggerated salute. "Invader Zim signing off!" he announced, and terminated the connection.

* * *

Back on the Massive, the Tallest looked at each other. "Season of giving?" the purple-suited Irken clarified. His red counterpart nodded, grinning widely, then leaned forwards to punch in a code on a nearby computer console. The video screen crackled to life, fizzing with static, then dissolved into an image of Lard Nar in his command seat.

"_What? A communication?"_ the small, blue-gray, horned Vortian demanded in a guttural voice. His goggles-encased eyes made contact with the screen, and the two Tallest smiled brightly while waving their robotic claws.

"Merry Christmas!" they chorused, and the Massive gave the opposing ship everything it had.

The Tallest laughed for a while as the captain of the Resisty fell out of his chair following the huge blow to his craft, then closed the communication, still hooting. "Hey," commented the red-suited leader, wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye, "this Christmas thing isn't so bad after all."


	4. Chapter 4

_Happy Ramendan (Pastafarian)_

Zim glared focusedly out the window at the pitiful Earth landscape flashing by beneath him. Had he actually paid attention in class rather than working on alien schemes, and had Ms. Bitters actually taught anything useful, and had Dib not distracted him at every possible moment with extraterrestrial accusations, Zim might have recognized the continent below as South America. Actually, he might _not_ have anyways considering that it didn't have "**SOUTH AMERICA**" written across it in big bold letters like it does on all the good maps. (The maps LIEEEEE!! _THEY LIE!!_ FILTHY EARTH MAPS!!)

Impatient to get on with conquering this pitiful hunk of space debris, Zim slammed his fist on the dashboard. "CAN'T THIS THING GO ANY FASTER?!" he demanded, his short attention span having canceled out his previous decision not to hurry things unduly. He scowled exaggeratedly at the speed readout. "Come _ooooon!_" the small Irken whined, his antennae flooping over. "Is a measly percentage of the speed of _sound_ the fastest it can go?"

A message scrolled across the video screen where he'd called the Tallest before. To anyone else on the planet the text would have looked like chicken scratch (albeit by chickens with knowledge of the occult), but Zim was able to read his native script quite well. "Locked on _cruise_ speed?!" he cried, his voice cracking in annoyance. He gritted his teeth and made several angry noises as his Pak began to smoke from the overload of stress. How had his ship gotten stuck on _cruise?_

"GAAAAAAAAHHHH!!" Zim yelled, whacking the console with both fists. A small tray unexpectedly popped out from beneath the dashboard, on top of which was a chocolate-frosted cupcake. The quasi-Invader stared blankly at the chemically-created treat, then clawed at his forehead. "_GIR!!_ **HE** LOCKED IT IN!! Oh, that WORTHLESS android!" Turning back to the holographic keyboard, Zim scanned the options. "I need GIR's _activation code_ to turn it OFF?" he protested, then tugged painfully on his long black antennae. "OOOOHHH, he makes me so MADDD!!"

At this new influx of unaccustomed energy, the alien's spotted Pak began to crackle and sizzle, then exploded completely. An electrical charge coursed through Zim's body, but it was just temporary as the auxiliary power circuits of the device kicked in and the Pak reassembled itself. Zim was still fuming, but the recharged databanks prevented the emotion from overwhelming him and the short Irken simply kicked back in his seat as the autopiloted steering wheel operated itself. As soon as he finished conquering the Earth, he would revoke GIR's rulership of the moon.

With a very irate would-be conquistador inside, the Voot Cruiser continued to zip southward to its historic destination.

* * *

And continued to zip southward.

* * *

And remained zipping southward.

* * *

And still zipped southward. Zim attacked the computer console again, and sparks played across his black gloves. "MUST I WAIT ALL OF ETERNITY TO CONQUER THIS DIRTY PLANET?!" he screamed. "It's been nearly _two minutes!!_"

The Voot Cruiser's computer banks, feeling that some self-preservation action was in order, released two long, metallic robot arms into the cockpit and tied its pilot up in them. At first Zim was surprised, then mildly annoyed, then began to actively kick and struggle against the cords. Not surprisingly, the explosive temper of the woefully short Irken got the better of him, and he began shouting Irken profanities at the machine.

We shall now pause for a lesson on intergalactic culture, brought to you directly from Megadodo Publications on Ursa Minor Beta. The Irken language is so similar to the language of "English" as to be nearly identical, through massive interference by interspatial wormholes and such other paradoxical oddities which can never be satisfactorily explained except to say that the Universe is an extremely improbable place and could only have evolved through Creation. (The theory of Unintelligent Design, as expounded upon in the religion of Pastafarianism, is an increasingly popular explanation throughout the Horsehead Nebula as well as many other localities.) However, their obscenities are different from those found on Earth (the home of the same silly "English language"), as they were spawned by the pop culture of a different planet. But because the systems of phonics are almost exactly the same, the rude slang sounds deceptively like many "English" terms.

"BINAFFLEK!!" Zim swore shrilly, wrenching his head away as the cords attempted to cover his mouth. The databanks were polite, and would rather not have their core data corrupted by vulgarities. "MIZTURKLEEHN! TRIKSRABBOT! _KORNIECRISSMAZSPESHULZZ!!_"

_Cultural information regarding Irken language paraphrased from _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, still marginally cheaper than_ The Encyclopedia Galactica_ and the preferred knowledge database of the Irken Empire._

With the product placement out of the way, the Voot Cruiser continued to zip placidly southwards with an incapacitated potty-mouthed Irken tied up in the control chair. About three or four hours afterwards, the view outside the Cruiser became one long stretch of white snow and ice, completely isolated and barren. From his awkward vantage point, Zim caught a glimpse of the landscape, remembered some itchy nagging thing Ms. Bitters had said about "ice caps" and deducted (surprisingly) that he had reached his destination.

"COMPUTER!!" he spat past the robotic cords, practically biting one as he struggled to be heard. "Computer, release the great ZIIIIIIIIM _immediately!_ I have arrived at the 'South Pole'!"

There was a small _whirr_ as the databanks thought this over, then the video screen extended towards Zim's face. He squinted his crimson eyes to look at it, and saw that there was a message printed on the screen.

" 'Do...you...promise...to...be...civil'," he muttered, reading the Irken characters aloud, then kicked angrily at the cords. "ZIM SHALL DO NO SUCH THING!! IT'S A STINKING _EARTH_ CUSTOM TO HAVE WARS 'CIVILLY'! I AM AN IRKEN _ELITE_ INVADER!! BOW BEFORE ZIIIIIIIM!!"

The computer refused to respond. Zim heaved a mighty groan, turning his head away from the console. "All right, ALL RIGHTTTT!!" he barked. "I'll buy that plasma TV upgrade system from Callnowia, _ARE YOU HAPPY?!_"

Apparently it was, since the cords holding Zim immediately retracted back into the console, dropping Zim in the pilot's seat. He rubbed his thin limbs gingerly, glowering at the video screen. "You're lucky I don't rearrange your pivotal programming with a CHIHUAHUA!" he threatened in an overly-loud voice, taking the ship off autopilot and gripping the steering wheel himself. The video screen lit up with another, sarcastic message, but Zim was too busy scoping out the land below to take notice.

"_And a very 'merry Christmas' to you too."_

* * *

With a dull roar, the Cruiser's backward thrusts rotated into a downwards angle and powered down, landing the purple spaceship neatly on top of a massive white drift. A raging, hostile wind blew huge snowflakes diagonally down on top of it, working diligently to try and bury the Voot Cruiser before it could lift off again. They were coming alarmingly close to succeeding.

Pushing back the pliant windshield bubble, Zim attempted to stand up and scout the area. However, the intense cold was more than his Pak could protect him from, and the snow that landed on him ate acidly away through his clothing and into his sensitive Irken skin. Screaming horribly from the pain, Zim retreated back into the Voot Cruiser and resealed the hatch.

"Vile Earth climates!!" he shouted, hissing sharply as he examined the tender patches on his head and arms. It didn't take long for his Pak to heal the wounds and regenerate his skin, but he would rather not feel pain and cold. (Well...that goes without saying.) Even inside the optimal Irken temperature of the Cruiser, Zim shivered. His Invader garb, a crimson vest with black leggings, may have been a sort of rudimentary armor, but they were rather thin. If his Pak couldn't regulate his temperature in this HIDEOUS environment, he would surely freeze before he could complete his mission.

With a grumble, Zim selected an option on the control console and studied the menu. Once he'd gone over all the choices, he emitted another throaty "HMMMM" and reluctantly pressed a button. Immediately another pair of robotic arms slithered out of the dashboard, one of them clutching something. Letting loose a deep groan, Zim lifted his own arms above his head as one of the robotic ones bodily picked up the Irken and dropped him into the brown fabric suit the other arm was holding. The robot arms retracted, and Zim finished climbing into the costume, zipping the front up and dropping the hood down over his head. He made a very dramatic show of not liking it.

"Much as it is DISPLEASING!! to be forced to such _human_like measures," he proclaimed to no one but himself, "I will be properly _warm_, shielded from the snow and _perfectly_ disguised."

So saying, Zim clambered out of the Cruiser once more, but this time in a bear suit.

—_There will now be a complimentary pause as some of the less sane _Zim_ fans burst out laughing and/or squeal with joy.—_

Still compulsively cringing to be near the toxic snow, Zim drew a small mechanical panel out of his pocket and activated it. He stared at the device for a while, looking at it upside-down, sideways, and pointing it in every direction imaginable. At length the panel beeped, and with a diabolical grin, Zim put it back in his (_bear suit_) pocket and clambered back inside the Voot Cruiser. Somewhat awkwardly, considering that the _bear suit_'s hands didn't have fingers, he punched up another menu on the console and grasped the steering mechanism. Shaking off the snowdrifts like a massive dog, the Cruiser's thrusters restarted and blasted the small craft into the air. It hovered there for a moment, then made a decision and zipped off in a preprogrammed direction, the disclike Voot Carrier following magnetically behind it.

* * *

Somewhere far away, miles and miles beneath the Earth, was a living room. Not a very interesting one; the cavernous rock formations making up the roof and the stalagmites sticking up from the floor like stakes got tiresome after a while, as did the everlasting flames dancing destruction everywhere the eye could see. As well, the sounds of tortured souls screaming in pain became monotonous once you'd heard them day in and day out. _Sigh_.

Standing erect in the middle of the cavern, although there was no wall flanking it, was a doorframe around a coal-black door. Presently, a knock echoed through it. A flock of bats circumvented the doorway and flapped shrilly into the main room, and the doorknob turned as the door opened. Standing there was a sallow-skinned old woman, hunched over like a vulture and squinting disapprovingly through her thick glasses.

"Honey, I'm home," Ms. Bitters rasped, and the door shut of its own accord.

A man sitting in an armchair set into the rock wall looked up from his newspaper. His skin was red like a lobster's, and he wore a short goatee as well as two long white horns on top of his head. The man smiled with a tinge of dark humor. "Hello, Lucille," he said pleasantly. A forked tail sticking over the chair's arm twitched from side to side. "How was 'Skool'?"

Ms. Bitters shuffled "inside", her bun of silvery hair twitching almost as irritably as the rest of her. "Perfectly horrible," she muttered, heading towards a coffee machine set into the wall opposite the man. Before the scary teacher even touched the machine, a mug floated off a rack and filled itself up with black coffee before placing itself in Ms. Bitters's hands. "How're the underground classrooms?"

Another shrill scream split the air, and the man's smirk widened. "Just fine," he replied, and opened the paper again. "The children are potty-training Cerberus, but I don't think he's quite getting it...there're flames _everywhere_." He glanced at Ms. Bitters over the top of the newsprint. "Do you remember what day it is, Lucille?"

The old woman glared sharply at him. "It's a pointless and revolting holiday," she grumbled, shuffling across the room again. Another armchair magically appeared from the stone, and she sat down in it. "Besides, it originated with one of your _many_ sworn enemies."

The man chuckled gutturally, shaking his head. "Ah, Lucille," he admonished in a smooth voice, reaching over to a nearby pillar of flame, "can I not circumvent those minor issues to please the one I love?" With that, he withdrew a small package from the fire and handed it to the teacher. " 'Merry Christmas', Lucille."

Still glaring suspiciously at him, Ms. Bitters took the package and unwrapped it. With a POOF of smoke, she held in her hands a long red pitchfork. Behind her glasses, Ms. Bitters's eyes widened. She gasped, then for the first time in centuries her eyes began to water. The man inclined his head towards the pitchfork. "If I recall, you preferred _practical_ presents," he commented.

"Y-Yes," Ms. Bitters croaked, her voice grating in her constricted windpipe. She turned back to the man. "Thank you. And...'Merry Christmas', Beelzy."


	5. Chapter 5

_Pleasant Kwanzaa_

The Voot Cruiser flashed across the Antarctic skies like a bowling ball _wouldn't_ flash across a frozen pond. That is to say, it was very fast and didn't fall into freezing-cold waters. ...Which was good for Zim. He proved this fact by laughing loudly and impressively, although the effect was dampered since he was _still wearing the bear suit_.

"WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!" he laughed anyways, throwing his head back so the sound emanated from deeper inside his puny chest. It was one of the "Making Impending Doom Look Good" tips he'd been taught during his training period on the planet Devastis. "MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!! OOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!! _NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!!_"

Zim inhaled a large amount of air, then stopped laughing and let out a triumphant sigh. "And I always thought it was _hard_ for a single Irken to be so _amazing_." Turning back to the computer console, he scanned his options and pressed a button. The ship ground to a halt, its thrusters backpedaling in midair as it positioned itself into a tame hover a mile above the ground. Zim keyed in another code and the plasticine windshield bubble immediately heated up, steaming off the ice that had formed on it during the journey. Hopping up on top of the pilot's seat, Zim pressed his green Irken face against the pliant material and looked out at the scene below him.

Far below on the frozen tundra of Antarctica were penguins of every size and shape, just as he had seen them back in his base all those hours ago, albeit this time colored pink by the Cruiser's tinted bubble. Zim's wormlike tongue involuntarily poked itself out of the corner of his mouth, and he began to salivate at the sight of all those unwitting earth-beasts. The penguins might not have known it, but they were a sign of the Irken flag gracing the top of this insignificant little globe. Just _thinking_ about it made Zim feel feverish, but he was far too impatient to sit back for even a moment.

"VICTORY IS ZIIIIM'S!!!!!" Zim shouted, even though it was a bit early for all that, and pressed a button on the console. Immediately another tray slid out from beneath the dashboard, a holo-keyboard lighting up on it as he brushed the appropriate sensor pad. His hands moved like lightning across the control panel, adjusting every last variable, then he glanced out the windshield again.

The Voot Carrier had begun to move, gliding soundlessly out from behind the Cruiser and spinning gracefully through the snowstorm. It descended without attracting any attention whatsoever from the penguins, floating down to the head level of one and then, in a sudden motion, snapping it up inside the plastic bubble and shooting back into the air.

"WAHAHAHA!!! I'm so _incrediblllle!_" Zim cheered, punching the air with a moldy, fur-covered fist as the Voot Carrier with the trapped penguin floated up to the Cruiser's level. The fowl was surprised and rather alarmed, something most people would find totally unreasonable considering that it was standing on a metallic disc, surrounded by a plasticine bubble and looking straight at a creature that was _obviously_ not from the same planet as it. Zim laughed long and loud, narrowing his crimson eyes at the even more frightened penguin as a wide, devilish grin split across his alien face. "YEEEESSSS, cower in FEAR of the awesomness of ZIM!!" he commended it, punching a few more commands on the Carrier remote-keyboard. The disc swooped down again, scooping up another pair of penguins in mid-dive. Zim cackled once more as the Carrier disc enlarged itself, expanding with every new penguin it captured.

"PUNY EARTH MUDBALL!!!" Zim cried, not even seeming to notice that, even if his Cruiser's hull wasn't soundproofed, there was nobody around to hear him. "YOU HAVE BEEN FULL OF _LUCK_ SO FAR, BUT YOUR NEW PERIOD OF...eh..._UNLUCKFULNESS_ BEGINS **NOW!!!!!!**" He let fly another gratuitous round of diabolical laughter. "IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME, FILTH-WORLD!! BUT YOU HAVE BEEN CONQUERED BY THE _GREATEST_ INVADER OF THEM ALL—FOR I AM _ZIIIIIII_—"

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Voot Cruiser _lurched_ as something hit it very hard and very fast. Zim emitted a surprised shout and flailed his arms to keep balanced, crashing into the computer console and hanging on for dear life. The Cruiser was spinning out of control, doing barrel-rolls in midair as it rebounded away from whatever had hit it. For a moment it seemed like the rocket thrusters were going to cut out, but at the last moment they restabilized and Zim's craft righted itself. His head spinning, Zim staggered to the windshield to see who had struck him. It looked like—like an Irken Spittle Runner, a fuchsia, crescent-shaped vehicle developed for the Armada. But this one was longer, a deep maroon than started out as an oval and tapered to three clawlike sections in the back. There was only one ship Zim knew of that looked like _that_, but...

He was cut short as the video screen crackled animatedly, and the screen dissolved from static into an image of a boy with a rather large head, a pair of glasses shielding amber eyes and a black spike of hair shaped like a scythe jutting out of the top of his head. The huge padded black coat he was wearing gave the boy the illusion of being at least fifty pounds heavier than he actually was, but even that didn't quite keep the sinister expression from his face.

"_Hello,** Zim**,"_ Dib jeered, smirking at the screen. _"I'm piloting Tak's ship, which I reformatted after that disaster last time when it thought it was me. I completely purged all personality files from the hard drive, and now it's just a regular old ship that listens to what **I** say."_ He paused, then scratched his head. _"Why'm I telling you this?"_ Dib shrugged. _"Oh well. Anyways, I'm here to foil your latest scheme and save the Earth once and for all and send you to a laboratory so they can cut you open to study your organs and is that a BEAR suit you're wearing?"_

"YES!" Zim snapped irritably, pointing a moth-eaten paw at the onscreen Dib. "FIL-thy HU-man! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO STICK YOUR FREAKISHLY LARGE HEAD INTO EVERYTHING I DO?!"

"_My head's not big!"_ Dib protested automatically. _"But if you want to know why I always try and stop you, it's because—"_

"TELL ME, STINK-WORM!" Zim commanded. Dib paused for a second, then resumed.

"_I always try to stop you because—"_

"JUST TELL ME ALREADY!"

Dib gritted his teeth. _"BeCAUSE—"_

Zim banged his fists on the computer banks. "WHY does it TAKE you so LONG to SAY something, _FILTH?!?_" he railed, spraying the screen with spit. The onscreen Dib automatically threw up an arm to protect his glasses before remembering that saliva can't be transmitted over an otherworldly communications bandwidth.

"_IT'S BECAUSE I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN PROTECT THE EARTH, 'CUS EVERYONE ELSE IS TOO **STUPID!**"_ he screamed before Zim could interrupt him again. Zim blinked.

"You know, you _could've_ just _said_ so," the alien commented. Zim quickly regained his composure, whereas Dib then began tearing at his hair. "BUT YOU'LL NEVER STOP ME, EARTH LARVA!!" he insisted, keying in something on the Voot Carrier's control panel. Off in the distance, the disclike craft glided silently upwards and out of sight behind a cloud bank. He couldn't risk the penguins getting freed, even if the human was too incompetent to actually manage it.

"_OH, I don't THINK so, Zim,"_ Dib replied irritably, panting from the overexertion of dealing with extraterrestrial idiots. _"You'll never get away with it! I'll stop you like I always do, and—MAN, it's SO hard to talk to you when you're in that suit."_

"Yesss," Zim answered cryptically, crossing his arms, "yes it _is_."

As always, Dib was too wrapped up in the traditional hero-villain dialogue to actually _do_ anything. _"Your ship must be a lot SLOWER than I remember, Zim,"_ he taunted over the communications link. _"I've been waiting for you for a couple hours now!"_

This was the straw that broke the camel's back, or, as Irkens say, it was the explosion that shortened the Tallest. "GYAAAAGH!!!" Zim fumed, literally diving for the steering wheel and shoving it as far forwards as the mechanism would allow. The Cruiser immediately shot directly towards Tak's old ship. Dib was caught by surprise, and even after he'd snapped out his delayed reaction the modified Spittle Runner couldn't pull away fast enough. With an unearthly noise, the Cruiser punched through the side of the other craft, crumpling a good quarter of Dib's ship. The Voot continued on the same course for a few seconds more, then swerved back around to face the destruction it had wreaked.

"Don't get in my way, _Dib_," Zim snarled at the screen. Only Dib's scythelike hair was visible, as he had ducked out of the field of view to avoid injury. "I'm a much more accomplished pilot than _you_. I was TRAINED to use this ship!"

Trembling, the onscreen Dib struggled to get back into the pilot's seat, purposefully avoiding looking at the video screen. Zim's clawlike fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but he hung back momentarily to see what the human would do. Dib was his sworn enemy, but Zim didn't want to kill him. _Yet_. It would do the worm-stink good to be taken prisoner and forced to watch the downfall of his entire race. The thought of delaying the torture made the Irken grind his teeth, but he was pacified by the thought that the devastation to his enemy would be that much worse. However, Zim's lack of pursuit didn't go unnoticed by Dib.

"_Then maybe your planet's training facilities need more WORK!"_ the human shot back, smirking cockily as he apparently regained his confidence. On the screen he grabbed the steering wheel, and through the windshield Zim could see Dib's ship soaring up to a vantage point just above the Cruiser. What could he possibly be DOING? _"I learned to repair and fly this ship all by myself, with NOTHING to go on—except for maybe a couple episodes of _Star Trek_—and even **I** know not to waste a chance to destroy my enemy!"_

Zim didn't have a chance to answer, as at that moment Dib disconnected his ship's engine and the modified Spittle Runner dropped like a stone on top of the Voot Cruiser. Its diminutive pilot frantically tried to maneuver his craft out from under it, but in Cruise Mode it was almost the same speed as a New York taxi. While this is one of the fastest speeds that can be achieved without the use of rocket thrusters, it is nearly insignificant when compared to the force of gravity, and the opposing craft smashed right into the Voot Cruiser.

"GAAAAAAAAAHH!" Zim shouted in panic, flattening himself against the floor a nanosecond before the windshield bubble crumpled like aluminum foil. It was a phenomenal stroke of luck that he had kept the bear suit on, as the thick fabric cushioned him enough to prevent more serious damage to his being. Even so, his Pak was the only thing that kept the weight of Dib's ship from crushing his delicate skeletal structure, and it was devoted so single-mindedly to that purpose that it was _also_ extremely lucky that the Cruiser's G-Force compensators remained intact to stabilize his organs as the two ships plummeted from the sky. Over the com-link, Zim could faintly hear Dib laughing maniacally, but this consideration was severely overwhelmed by self-preservational instincts. Gasping for breath, Zim inched painfully beneath the crumpled hull to the control panel, then with a tremendous effort willed his Pak's spider legs to deploy. One did, struggling to find adequate moving space, and began tapping something out at a desperately high speed. After a few agonizing seconds there was a _click_, then a preprogrammed voice announced **"Unlock of Combat Mode Approved"**.

With a deafening _whoosh_ the output of the Cruiser's rockets doubled, propelling the mangled husk out from under the modified Spittle Runner. Once the craft was free, the windshield bubble immediately retracted into the ship's hull before reemerging, totally repaired. The rest of the ship wasn't in such good condition, but Zim couldn't do anything about that with such short time on his hands; Dib, noticing that Zim had escaped, had restarted his own engines and pulled his ship swoopingly out of its dive to face the Cruiser once more. His voice burst through the com-link again, although the damaged receiver made it sound tinny and broken.

"_Quick—_**FZZZZT**—_thinking, Zim. But don't think you'll_—**FZZZZZZ**—_get away that easily again!"_

Zim gripped the controls, his Pak repairing the worst of him and the automatic program repairing the worst of his ship. "It's not over YET, disgustingly pink-skinned human!" he spat—figuratively _and_ literally—as he pulled off the bear suit's hood. His antennae sprang up, and a rush of energy sped through Zim. As long as his antennae were unconfined, he could think as quickly as he needed...since he WAS Zim, though, this was only at about the same rate as the average President. (Lawsuits may be filed on the third floor, folks, and keep the line moving. It's muffin day in the cafeteria.)

In the fractured image on the video screen, Dib appeared confused. _"What did you_—**FZZZZK**_—say about Yetis?"_ he asked, then shook his head, causing the damaged screen to pixelize more. _"Never_—**FFFFFFT**—_mind. It won't matter after I bring you to a SCIENCE LAB for_—**FZZZZZZCRACKLE**—_DISSECTION!"_

Hissing reflexively at the thought, Zim directed the Voot Cruiser towards the other ship, powering up the thrusters. "IT'S USELESS, _DIB_," he proclaimed loudly, trying to bluff the human into giving up. Dib was a slightly better pilot than Zim had expected, and he didn't want to risk unduly damaging the Cruiser before he could carry out the rest of his mission. "MY CRUISER CAN CRUSH YOUR PUNY SHIP LIKE A VOGON SMASHES THE GUTS OF A JEWELED CRAB INTO WORTHLESS PASTE!!!"

The onscreen Dib scratched his head. _"Well, that_—**FZZZZSK**—_ALMOST made_—**FZZZZAAK**—_sense. I—"_ he began, but was cut off as the Cruiser suddenly shot like an arrow toward his ship.

The collision was gargantuan, the Voot Cruiser ramming the modified Spittle head-on. Both ships spun away, severely dented and out of control. It took Zim only a few moments to right his craft, but Dib, having been a pilot for only a few hours, continued to spin off into the distance. A toothy grin stretching across his face, Zim accelerated again and slammed into the other ship once more, then _again_, then _again_.

"_GAAAAAAAAAAA_—**FZZZZZT**—_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"_ Dib screamed, throwing up his thickly-cushioned arms to protect his head. Actual sparks were flying off the ship now, its armor chinked and some of its internal wiring poking out into the open air. The ship was a crumpled heap now, rockets damaged and most of the hull bashed in. The Voot Cruiser had fared better, as Zim's deft maneuvering had allowed it to score the most possible damage without taking any itself. While the opposing ship spiraled downwards towards the icy ground, Zim remained motionless in midair to watch in triumph. The human was powerless now—just as Zim had wanted. He could _collect_ the Dib whenever he was ready to show the stupid boy the destruction of the human race. Dib wouldn't go anywhere; that ship wouldn't fly again anytime soon.

But that's where Zim was wrong. Just as his ship was less than a half mile above the Earth's surface, Dib's mind screamed out instructions that his arms followed without question, and he began punching buttons on the control console. There was a heart-stopping pause, and the damaged thrusters reignited, slowing the fall until the ship was quivering in midair just above _terra firma_. More sparks were produced as the hull automatically resealed itself, and after another second or two the modified Spittle Runner flew back up to the Voot Cruiser's level. One panting agonizingly, the other fuming with incontestable rage, both combatants revved up their engines and prepared to resume the epic battle.


	6. Chapter 6

_Joyful Boxing Day (Canada, UK, Australia)_

In an undisclosed location somewhere on the planet Earth, an Irken female in gray-purple gear was muttering angrily and pacing along the length of a rocky cave. She was a pretty sort, her height around the average for her age (somewhat young by her species's standards) and a small wire was attached to her left temple. Her stunningly amethyst eyes were blazing, and her curled antennae twitched on every other word as she resumed a much-practiced soliloquy.

"Oh, he'll _pay_," she grumbled, kicking at an errant chunk of rock with a black-booted foot. "Yes, he will _pay_ for making my life miserable."

A small silvery-gray robot looking not entirely unlike GIR scuttled up to Tak, cocking its head to the side and slowly blinking its large red eyes. "No, I have _not_ formulated a plan yet, MiMi!" the Irken snapped, interpreting that as the SIR unit's unasked question as she sharply whirled around to pace in the opposite direction. She became annoyed with walking that way, though, and turned around again, pacing towards the mouth of the cave. "If I _did_, we wouldn't still BE here!"

Footsteps echoed across the cavern around her, and though she already knew who it must be Tak whirled anyways. Directly behind her was a short, squat Irken, about the same height as Zim, in a stained red-and-pink uniform. "I thought my words were not to bother me, Invader Skoodge!" Tak reprimanded hotly, and Skoodge flinched nervously.

"W-well, yes," he responded with more than a hint of fear in his voice. "H-however, I felt the desire to tell you tha—"

"NOT NOW!" Tak shouted, turning her back on him and resuming her pacing. Skoodge timidly thwarted her attempts to ignore him, however, by scurrying along after her and ducking back into her line of vision.

"C-C-Comrade Tak—" he began again, but at Tak's piercing glare he amended himself. "M-My _tall_ peer, I kn-know how important it is that you mutter about killing Zim, but I—"

"Can you _leave_ me _ALONE?!_" the female repeated even more forcefully, pushing Skoodge to one side and stomping further away from him. Perhaps she would go to the city directly outside and just go brood somewhere else; it was the only place that infuriating Skoodge wouldn't follow her. After all, she still had her hologram device, and Skoodge would look far too out-of-place. However, just as Tak was seriously contemplating this, MiMi jumped up and clung to the Irken's arm, tugging on it meaningfully. Tak stopped abruptly and scowled down at the robot. She tried to shake her loose, but the SIR's grip was very tight and the little robot seemed very intent on something. "Get _off_, MiMi!" Tak hissed angrily, shaking her arm again, and Skoodge took advantage of Tak's distraction to continue his thought.

"My f-fellow Irken, tonight—on this planet, at the present time, an event known as 'Christmas Eve' is coming to pass. I-I-I was informed of this by your SIR, seeing as my own was destroyed by the Tallest and it would not have had that data anywa..."

He trailed off pitifully as Tak turned to glare at him again, still trying to shake off MiMi. "So?" she demanded venomously, her eyes narrowed into two angry slits. "If you have anything to say, _say_ it! If you've simply bothered me to _waste_ my _time_ again, rest assured that I _shall_ **KILL** you!"

Skoodge faltered slightly, his antennae jittering with nervousness. Tak had been like a time bomb ever since her defeat by Zim, making any conversation with her a veritable death trap. "O-o-on this occasion, the natives exchange favorable wishes and material goods with one another. I m-merely considered that, as we are currently situated on the planet's surface, and as Invaders our sworn duty is to collect information pertaining to the inhabitants and attempt to assimilate into—"

"Yes, I _know_ that!!" Tak was becoming increasingly incensed, _especially_ by the use of the term "Invader". As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, _she was not an Invader_. Technically speaking she was still a janitorial drone, and the fact that such an irritating and _short_ Irken like Skoodge had become an Invader was just one of the many reasons for her utter hatred. "What is your _point_, puny excuse for an Irken elite? Or do you even _have_ one?"

Going into a near-crouch (although with his stature he was already close enough to the ground), Skoodge's scarlet eyes tremblingly looked up into Tak's violet ones. However, her stare proved too daunting and he concentrated instead on a point just in front of Tak's feet. Taking in a deep breath, he squeaked, "I just finished altering that escape pod you were using as a ship. N-now it has lasers and a temporary shield barrier, as well as a universal g-g-guidance system."

Tak was halfway towards ordering MiMi to destroy him when his words suddenly registered, and instead she froze in surprise. Tak's hands dropped to her sides, her amethyst eyes wide with shock. Skoodge fidgeted nervously, still watching the ground. After remaining immobile for a few more seconds, Tak snapped back to her normal self and turned sharply away from him. "Y-yes, very good, Skoodge," she proclaimed haughtily, still a bit staggered, and didn't even notice as MiMi let go of her arm. Clearing her throat self-consciously, she half-turned her head back towards Skoodge, who was glancing anxiously at her in case she still wanted to attack.

"Eh...Invader Skoodge," Tak announced haltingly, her Irken complexion seemingly redder in the darkness, "I believe that I'm through contemplating revenge on Zim for tonight."

Skoodge seemed a bit surprised, but he didn't make a comment. Instead he straightened up, wiped his forehead in relief and smiled a little. "M-m-merry night of 'Christmas', tall comrade."

Tak made a noise halfway between a cough and a hiccup, attempting a lopsided smile. It stretched her facial muscles in a direction they hadn't moved in for a long time, but she would learn to get used to it again. " 'Merry Ch-Christmas', Invader Skoodge."

* * *

Dib wheezed, breathing in and out deeply and rapidly. Even in the controlled atmosphere of the modified Spittle Runner, sweat was rolling down the back of his neck. This was getting really _dangerous_. As he watched Zim gear up for another attack over the video screen, Dib was reminded for the umpteenth time this past few minutes that he had never really _seen_ Zim fly combat before. Well, there WAS that time when they had hijacked Mars and Mercury, which turned out to actually be giant spaceships, but Zim had only just learned the controls at the time. And as he had said, Zim had been _trained_ to pilot Irken ships. Dib was on the alien's turf now.

Charging the rocket boosters again, Dib glanced surreptitiously at the digital watch concealed beneath his mitten. 7:54 PM. Hopefully he'd be able to defeat Zim in time to return home and watch the new _Mysterious Mysteries_ episode at midnight. It was a holiday special, and they were investigating the phenomenon of Christmas occurring in department stores a month before it passes in the rest of the world.

"It's no use, _Zim!_" he spat at the video screen, trying to sound a lot more confident than he felt. "Once I destroy your heat laser of...HEAT that you're using to melt the ice caps, the EARTH will be _saved!_"

The image of Zim on his communications screen was fractured and indistinct due to the damage to both ships, and the voice came out as an almost incoherent mumble. _"What heat laser?"_ the alien asked, blinking his large crimson eyes in confusion, but Dib could see through his ruse.

"I can see through his ruse!" Dib proclaimed aloud, probably not even realizing that he was doing so. On the screen, Zim was scratching his long black antennae in bewilderment. "Zim _must_ have it concealed somewhere on his spaceship, probably even in plain sight! Oh, _why_ didn't I memorize the diagrams I've seen of that stupid ship?"

"_Um, hell-looooo?"_ Zim said over the com-link, waving a hand to try and get Dib's attention. _"I can_—**KRRRZAK**—_HEAR you, human!"_

"Well," Dib continued, deaf to anything Zim might be saying, "there _is_ the probability that he has it hidden on some other craft I can't see, acting as a separate agent. There's no way to tell."

The onscreen Zim waved both hands now, gesticulating wildly at the oblivious Dib. _"Hello? Di-ib? Filthy_—**FFFFFFZ**—_HU-man? Look! Look, hairless_—**VVVRRT**—_primate! This is me, Zim, hearing_—**ZZZZT**—_you! See? I can HEAR you! Lookit me go! See? See? I'm hearing! I'm hearing! I am __**HEEEEEA**__-RING yooooooou!"_

Keying something in on the control panel, Dib persisted in talking aloud. "The only way to find out is to destroy his entire ship!"

That shut Zim up pretty quickly. _"We'll see about_—**FFFFFFTT**—_THAT, wormy-baby child of slime and icky things!"_ he challenged, and immediately Zim's purple craft was barreling straight towards Dib's ship again. Still sweating a little, Dib managed to swerve his ship out of the way, hearing even through the soundproofed Irken metal the _whoosh_ing roar as the Voot Cruiser passed directly over him. Taking in more deep breaths, Dib angled his ship so he could clearly see Zim's craft through the tinted windshield.

"Why isn't he using the laser?" he panted, head spinning. "Why? _Whyyyy?_ If it were _me_, I would've used the laser the first thing!" Instead of being comforted by the thought that he wasn't being shot at, the absence of the (unbeknownst to Dib) imaginary laser worried the boy. However, he paused as a new revelation made itself clear to him. "Zim _is_ kinda stupid, though..."

Zim didn't appear to have heard the last remark as he slowed the Cruiser and turned it towards Dib's ship. _"AAAAARGH!"_ he screamed over the com-link, powering up the rockets again. This time, though, Dib was ready, energizing his own thrusters as he waited for Zim to charge. Predictably, the alien did, but Dib pulled out of his way at the last second to turn around and slam into the Cruiser himself.

There was a shower of sparks and debris as the crafts collided, and both ships were sent flying in opposite directions for the second time. Dib clutched at his stomach, trying to get used to the violent shudders that accompanied ship-to-ship ramming. Unfortunately, he failed miserably enough to have to recycle some of the day's lunch into a waste tube conveniently located nearby. Gasping and panting, divided between holding his stomach and hanging on to the steering wheel, Dib turned back towards the Cruiser. It had already righted itself and was flying back at him. "GAAAAAAAAH!!" Dib shouted in panic, trying to angle his craft out of the way. He pressed random buttons on the control panel, trying desperately to find anything that might work, and actually managed to duck out of Zim's way again. Through anatomical impossibilities, Dib's heart was pumping ferociously somewhere in the vicinity of his esophagus, and he tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever was coming next.

Whether it was by chance, divine interest or some other sort of cosmic muffin, at that moment Dib looked out of his windshield and saw the craft's four claws, which usually trailed _behind_ the craft, extended out in front and poised like a praying mantis's front limbs. Somehow, part of his frantic button-pushing spasm had actually _armed_ them.

"The ship's claws!" Dib gasped aloud again, covering up the sound of Zim swearing _"QUINTNTURINTEENO!!"_ over the com-link as his ship whirled around to face Dib's craft again. "Somehow, part of my frantic button-pushing spasm actually _armed_ them!" The sight of Zim's Voot Cruiser becoming increasingly large through his windshield sent Dib into near-incoherence as he began panicking at levels he'd never before achieved. "But how do I _use_ them?! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE THEM!! _I'M GOING TO DIE MILES ABOVE THE ARCTIC CIRCLE BEFORE I'VE EVEN EXPOSED ZIM AS AN ALIEN BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO—_"

Dib was sheepishly cut off as he saw a big red button with a _very distinct_ picture of four black claws on it right in front of his face, and turned slightly red himself as he pressed it.

And not a moment too soon as the four talons moved like lightning into the hull of the Voot Cruiser, which had been a mere second away from smashing into Tak's old ship again. The weapons pierced through the purple metal like a tank through a warehouse of totally prepared Jell-o, gripping the ship by the inside. Zim gave a shout of surprise, which over the fractured soundspeakers sounded like a mentally-challenged Ravenous Bugblatter Beast after a full round of Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters. The overall effect was of a quality rivaled only by the sight of a flock of rabid wildebeests riding on the back of a single jackrabbit.

_This story is exceedingly popular with the Similes and Metaphors Society of America._

There was a short, stunned silence as Dib realized what had just happened. Had he been fully adept in the arts of war, this pause would have been used to completely cripple the Voot Cruiser and capture Zim, which would have ensured the Earth's security, at least, from the Irken empire and would have rid the Tallest of an incompetent (and rather expensive) nuisance. However, he was just a simple Earth boy who had only just figured out how to use the deadliest of his weapons—and this was a fact that saved Zim's life. In that split-second of inactivity he managed to yank the Cruiser out of the tangle of claws, albeit ripping a solid chunk off the front of his ship in doing so, and duck out of the way of further harm. As Dib jolted back to reality a mere second later, the Voot Cruiser was already sputtering backwards in an attempted retreat.

"Oh no you _don't!_" Dib shouted, confidence recovered as the talons poised themselves again. He grabbed the joystick that appeared to be the manual controls for the deadly weapons, jostling it about a little and seeing how the claws reacted through the windshield. Once he'd established a basic working knowledge of it, he glanced around for Zim again. Spotting the alien's purple ship trying to fly for cover behind a glacier, Dib grinned widely.

"I'M COMING, ZIM!" he cried overdramatically, and sped full-throttle after his nemesis. Sharply rounding the corner of the glacier, though, the ship skittered to a stop. Zim's ship was nowhere in sight—that is, until Dib spotted it through the corner of his windshield trying to conceal itself in a cloud. His smile spread almost to the tips of his ears, and narrowing his eyes he pulled his craft upwards sharply, shooting past the snowflakes and diving into the cloud.

Most people think that the inside of a cloud must look something like heaven. Pastafarians, of course, know this isn't so, as their heaven has a beer volcano and it would be rather silly to think that you could fit one of _those_ inside a cloud. The reality of it is, clouds are very unpleasant to be inside, as Dib learned the moment the frozen water molecules attached to his ship. As Irkens don't build their ships to be resilient to water, since there _is_ none on their planet, it was only by virtue of the craft's self-repair program that Dib was able to avoid the preliminary stages of instant rust—but none of that could help the fact that he couldn't see. It was akin to the worst fog on Earth multiplied by ten, preventing any kind of view through the windshields besides simply the swirling sheet of white and gray. For a moment Dib just screamed panicked ultimatums about how the world was going to end and how he was probably going to be stuck in the cloud forever and that if he couldn't see he couldn't stop Zim (none of which I feel like transcribing), but then something stirred in the back of his disturbingly large head.

"WAIT A MINUTE! I'VE GOT A RADAR..._THINGY!!_" he cried, immediately activating it by virtue of the keypad. The video screen still showing fractured-looking feed from Zim's ship immediately lit up with a grid of pink circles on a purple-black background. Part of his ship's databanks were still damaged, so the image was slightly ruptured, but he could see a red blip clearly enough. _Was that a second blip pixelized in the corner of the screen?_ Dib tensed for a moment—but the second mark soon disappeared. "It must've been my imagination," he decided, then with a sudden skip of his heartbeat he glanced back at the radar. The original blip hadn't moved. "That's odd," he noticed, cocking his head to the side. "Maybe Zim can't see and is just too stupid to use his radar."

This explanation sounded perfectly rational, so it didn't bother Dib overly much as he prepped the ship's claws and silenced his engines, moving stealthily forwards. Then, when the still-stationary blip on the radar was close enough that he could even see a shadowy silhouette in the fog before him, Dib shoved the joystick forward as far as it could go.

"_YOU'RE MINE, ZIM!"_ That's what he had been planning to say. But it stuck in his throat as he suddenly heard an unearthly rupturing sound. Even through the soundproofed Irken hull, Dib could clearly hear the terrible noise as the claws struck and broke clean through something.

And, even more horribly, he could hear Zim.


	7. Chapter 7

_Apologies to any holidays I might've forgotten or couldn't fit_

Back in Zim's living room, more than five hours after he first came into this story, GIR was _still_ staring blankly at the TV. The little antenna on top of his head was fizzing and crackling, little sparks of electricity dancing periodically on the tip of the blue orb crowning the appendage. His data canister was almost completely full, having recorded every image, sound and nuance of not only _A Muppets Christmas Carol_ and _A Wish for Wings That Work_, but also of _A Charlie Brown Christmas_, _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_, _Bah Humduck: A Looney Tunes Christmas_, _Mickey's Christmas Carol_, _The Nightmare Before Christmas_—this one GIR had even made a backup copy of, realizing that it might even please his master—_Wakko's Wish_,_ The Night the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and several others. (It helped that he was hooked up to every television in the base simultaneously.) Now it was almost finished recording _A Pinky and the Brain Christmas_.

As GIR mechanically lifted another handful of ancient chocolates to his mouth, the screen showed a white cartoon mouse, short and with a big head (Proportionally larger than Dib's, GIR would've noticed if all his functions weren't wholly devoted to transcribing the show), read from a small slip of paper.

" '_So please, take anything which you had for me and give it to my best friend in the whole world...' "_ the mouse read in a trembling voice, his pink eyes becoming wider and more heartbreaking as he scanned the sheet, _" '...th-the Brain.' "_

The mouse looked up, confused tears in his eyes, as the camera switched to show another, taller mouse sobbing in the opposite direction. GIR watched this scene unfold for another second or so, then wobblingly got to his feet. Moving awkwardly because of the small amount of operating space left on his hard drive, GIR toddled almost spellbound out of the room, not even bothering to turn the TV off first.

* * *

The Voot Carrier shuddered, shaking from side to side as its internal receptors tried to cope with the fact that it had just been speared in its vital databanks by four very large metal talons, which had just hurriedly retracted themselves. Its self-governing temperature adjusters rocketed out of their normal parameters, the delicate machinery that kept it hovering was rapidly becoming unstabilized and _it dropped the penguins_, upending on itself and accidentally sending the fowl tumbling out through the huge holes caused by the claws. As the loss of the penguins and the severe damage to the Carrier represented itself through the explosion of the holo-keyboard that controlled it, Zim immediately reacted with a howl of uncontested rage.

"NOOOOO!! _MY PENGUINS!!_" he screamed, pressing his face against the cockpit bubble as he watched the scene helplessly. His Irken eyesight was marginally better in conditions of obscurity than a human's, so he could see in shadowy silhouettes the disintegration of his plan. The Voot Carrier was quivering erratically, its interior pressure chamber so out of wack that it began to suck in the cloud around it, expanding rapidly as the crystallized water vapor flooded into its internal chamber. The air quickly cleared, and Dib could see through his own windshield about twenty shocked penguins losing very swiftly in a battle against gravity.

"_Penguins?_" he demanded, raising an eyebrow at the reinstated image of Zim on his video screen. "What do _penguins_ have to do with anything?"

"You _ruined_ my PLAN!!" Zim cried, banging his fist on the computer console. His Pak was starting to heat up again from the influx of such concentrated and ardent emotion. "MY plan, my _GLORIOUS_ plan!! FILTHY Earth boy!"

Dib blinked in confusion, then his face morphed into an annoyed expression. "Don't tell me you were going to use the penguins' _body heat_ to melt the ice caps."

Zim gripped the sides of his head, clawing at the green skin in agitation. "AGAIN with your STINKY Earth ice caps!!" he screamed. "I wish nothing to _do_ with your ice caps of DOOM! YOU ruined my secret plan of turning the penguin-beasts into Earthsludge-crushing LAWYERS!!"

In his confusion compounded with the near-insensibility of what Zim was now saying, Dib was becoming frustrated as well. "But it's not a secret! You just TOLD me!!" he protested, his voice reaching almost shrill pitches. Then the words of his adversary suddenly registered. "_Lawyers?_ That's pretty dumb, Zim."

Outside, the Voot Carrier continued to rattle, sucking the entire cloud inside its containment pod and even pulling in several adjoining ones. Its external mechanisms spluttered and coughed, shooting out sparks. However, this was noticed by neither the human nor the Irken.

"DUMB?! YOU DARE CALL ZIM'S PLOTS _DUMB?!_" Zim cried, his voice raising to an almost unhearable pitch as he tried desperately to come up with a retort. "WELL, uhhh...WELL—_SQUIRRELS ARE STUPID!!_"

"No they're not!" Dib responded automatically before realizing what had been said. There was a slight pause following this, stretching for several seconds. When it became apparent that nothing more was going to happen, Dib shrugged. "Welllllllllll, I guess I saved the human race," he decided, then turned the modified Spittle Runner around in an effort to leave. "See you tomorrow, Zim!"

He actually managed to fly about a quarter mile away before he heard Zim scream again through the com-link. COME BACK TO **ZIIIIM**_, HORRIBLE HUMAN!!"_

Squirming around in his pilot's seat, Dib saw through a rear camera monitor that the Voot Cruiser was pursuing him, and gaining fast. Looking back at the video screen, he could see every ounce of the Irken's wrath reflected in Zim's narrowed crimson eyes and in his wide mouth hollering alien expletives (_"ARCHEEKOMIX! GRUMMATEKULLYINKIRRECTPHANFIKS!"_), and all the fear he'd felt before dropped like a stone in the pit of Dib's gullet.

"Uhhhhhhh...No thanks!" he replied, boosting the output of his rocket thrusters to maximum. Even with all the damage to his craft, he was still far clear of the Antarctic coast in under a minute. With a sigh he wiped his forehead, removing his white mittens to do so, but just as he was going to drop the muffs into his coat pocket he heard a beeping from the computer console. Confused, Dib looked around for something to give him a clue as to what was going on. There was no need, however, as after fifteen seconds of inactivity a prerecorded clip of Tak's voice he hadn't known to delete narrated for him.

"**Enemy craft approaching rapidly from behind,"** the crisp yet tinny tone informed him, and an image flashed through Dib's mind of the purple-eyed Irken as he had last seen her. He shivered even before he comprehended the message; that voice was just too unnerving for him to forget in a hurry. **"Craft is in combat mode and should be considered a threat."**

"GAAAAAAAHH!!" Dib cried reflexively, giving his steering wheel a death grip as he jerked it forward as far as possible. "GO AWAAAY, ZIMMMM!!" he shouted shrilly at the com-link, which neither of them had bothered to turn off.

"_**NEVERRRRRRRRRRR!!**_" Zim shouted back, trembling with rage as he keyed something in on his control panel. A moment later, the atmosphere to the right of Dib's ship loudly and spontaneously combusted.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"

Had Dib been able to see the Voot Cruiser without looking back at the rear monitors, he would have seen that the two purple energy pods had detached from Zim's ship and were levitating just to either side of the craft, discharging laser beams in the direction of the modified Spittle. Inside the hull of the Cruiser, Zim was livid, his antennae stiffly laid back like the ears of an angry cat. Without even missing a beat, he threw off the bear suit and continued firing at Dib. He would pay...he would DEFINITELY payyyy...

As Dib's craft ducked and weaved in an attempt to avoid the blasts, his ship flew wildly off course from his original trajectory homewards. But he didn't realize this, even as he passed straight over the southernmost tip of South America, Zim shooting along behind. Not even as his ship crossed over and into African skies minutes later, and when he was still dodging the lasers over Asia even later than that. No matter where his hectic zigzagging led him, Zim was right behind.

And behind Zim came the Voot Carrier, its default programming dragging it magnetically along in the wake of Zim's ship. Its containment bay was stuffed to maximum capacity with snowclouds, but even as it tipped dangerously to follow the course of the Cruiser, the vapor poured out of the holes in the plasticine bubble and rained down on the countries below.

Or, rather, _snowed_.

As Zim chased Dib over Argentina, a line of snow trailed behind them. Snow followed them over Namibia and Botswana, over Madagascar and even northwards through Kenya and Ethiopia. The denizens of Saudi Arabia looked up into the sky and saw several floating objects pursuing each other, and a moment later it suddenly began to snow. The same strange occurrence happened in the skies of Pakistan, and in India, and out in Cambodia and Taiwan. It passed over Japan, where the spaceships were viewed critically as possible advertisements by Tokyo manufacturers, and crossed over Russia, where the natives yelled that they _already_ had enough snow. The mystical blizzard graced Kazakhstan, flew through Turkey and Bulgaria and across all of Western Europe. The snow traveled across Canada and through Hawaii, visiting the Philippines and Indonesia. It snowed in Australia, and in Tasmania, and then again across the French Polynesia, Bolivia, Peru, Brazil and Venezuela. Snow came to Ghana and Nigeria, to Chad and Libya, to Algeria and Mauritania, to Puerto Rico and Honduras, to Guatemala and Mexico. (_"United States, Canada, Mexico, Panama, Haiti, Jamaica, Peru; Republic Dominican, Cuba, Caribbean, Greenland, El Salvador tooooo..."_)

The snow descended upon the entire world, giving every town, every city, every country, every nation a white Christmas.

Dib, contrastingly, could not have cared less as his ship continued to duck and weave past bolts of seemingly inexhaustible energy. His eyelids were heavy, and the continual crossings over different time zones had discombobulated his internal timepiece. He blearily checked his watch. 5:47 AM. Zim had been chasing him for almost ten hours. Dib rubbed his eyes, glad that he'd finally found the "autopilot" option after four hours of searching.

"Geez," he mumbled almost incoherently, watching Zim's ship on the rearview monitors, "do aliens sleep a' all?"

The human boy stared blankly out the windshield, not even taking in the images until he realized with a jolt that it was his own town. Zim's house loomed like a big aqua-green thumb on the horizon, a tiresome reminder of the little Irken but a welcome and familiar sight nonetheless.

"It's my own town!" Dib cried in recognition, still able to self-narrate even while half-asleep. He grinned tiredly, wrinkling the deep bags under his eyes. "Good"—here he yawned midsentence—"good ol' autopilot, it r'members the way home." He stared contemplatively at the computer console. "They really ha-have the most 'mazing technology," he appreciated, slumping comfortably back in the pilot's seat. "Dunno how it c'n d-dodge all those 'nergy blasts li' that, bu—"

Even as Dib said it the ship must have paused to think over this fact itself, because the next blast hit the ship square in the back, sending it reeling forwards. Dib screamed, sitting bolt upright and gripping the Irken armrests as the ship pitched. In a flash the Voot Cruiser had pulled itself in front of the modified Spittle, presumably so Zim could gloat.

"_Who's the better pilot NOW, Dib?!"_ Zim taunted over the video screen, even though it had taken over nine hours for him to land a shot. As well, the remark was made _equally_ pointless by the fact that he had just placed the Cruiser directly in the crash path of Dib's ship. Before the Irken even had time to realize this excessively stupid oversight, the two ships had collided again and were both spinning helplessly back down to Earth. Then, with a sickening _CRUNCH_, Tak's old craft landed on top of the Voot Cruiser _and_ Carrier inside the still-open "attic" portion of Zim's house. The cockpit of the modified Spittle Runner flew open, dumping Dib out onto one of the snow-free patches on the imitation-hardwood floor. Thankfully, his huge winter coat had cushioned him just enough to keep his spine from snapping on impact, but even so he hit his head hard on the floor and sank into a blissful sleep.

* * *

It might've been a few minutes or even half an hour later when Dib was rudely awakened by a kick to the ribs. He inhaled sharply and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes to squint through cracked glasses. Before him was a looming silhouette of something with very thin limbs, and which looked impressive from his low vantage point even though in actuality the creature was only about the same height as him. The two antennae on top of the silhouette's squareish head twitched in anger, and with a hissing noise he kicked Dib again.

"STUPID EARTH CREATURE!" Zim howled, shoving his boot rudely into Dib's shin. Behind him was the wreckage of the two ships, and both they and Zim were backlit by the slim rays of the approaching dawn. Dib shielded his eyes and managed to scramble to the side as Zim tried to kick him again. "_FILTHY_ HUMAN! YOU RUINED _ALL_ MY PLANS!" He shook one black-gloved fist emphatically, using his other hand to point accusingly at Dib. "**ALLLLLL** OF THEM!!"

"You were trying to destroy the human race!" Dib objected angrily, scrabbling to his feet just as Zim tried to make a swing at his head. "It's not _my_ fault!"

"_YES IT IS!!_" Zim shouted in return, then tackled Dib. Zim batted furiously at the human, who only barely managed to avoid the blows as he attempted to shove the alien off of him. "I meeeeeerely WISH TO PLEASE MY LEADERS, THE TALLEST, BY DESTROYING YOUR PITIFUL PLANET!! IS THAT SIMPLY TOO MUCH TO _ASK?!_"

"**YES!**" Dib shot back, gasping for breath as he grabbed Zim's skinny forearm and tried to force it away from his face. "How'd YOU like it if YOUR planet was being invaded by a HUMAN or something?"

Instead of introducing Zim to reason and logical arguments, however, the rebuttal merely angered him more. "IRK IS A MASSIVELY SUPERIOR PLANET COMPARED TO _YOUR_ PITIFUL SLIME-SPHERE, LARVA OF WORMS!" he cried, grabbing up a handful of snow from a nearby drift and shoving it into Dib's face before the watery material could burn through his Irken gloves. Dib spluttered as he tried to wipe it off, but Zim was relentless in his anger and just kept shoveling it onto the human. "We Irkens are the most _SUPREME_ race the Universe has ever SEEN! We—"

Both combatants froze in surprise as Zim was cut off by a small, drawn-out "Hell-looo." Taking advantage of Zim's distraction, Dib wiped the snow off his glasses and looked over to the elevator tube that led into the Cruiser's hangar. Standing right in front of it was GIR, grinning widely with his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth. He looked like he was trying very hard not to giggle, and succeeding only because he was giggling on the inside.

"GIR!" Zim snapped, standing up indignantly. Dib scurried away from Zim and got to his feet as well. "GIR, what are you _doing?_ Can't you see that the great ZIIIIM is—"

Apparently GIR didn't give a hoot about what "the great ZIIIIM" was doing, as he plodded forwards until he was standing directly in front of both Zim and Dib. Then, without warning, the top of his head opened up. The human and Irken were a bit surprised by this, but not as surprised as they were when GIR reached inside his head and pulled out two small boxes, messily wrapped in green paper and with lopsided pink bows on top. At last giving in to the urge to giggle, GIR handed one to Zim and one to Dib. "Fer you, mastah, and fer mastah's friend!" he proclaimed proudly, then jumped into the air and waved his hands around crazily. "MERRY CHRISTMASEES!!"

Without even thinking to do so, Dib unwrapped the small gift, finding an obviously Irken box inside. Pressing a rather obvious button on the top of the box, the lid sprang open to reveal a small, deformed clay pig. Stunned, Dib took it out of the box and held it up. It was certainly _meant_ to be a pig, although it was quite possibly the worst-made thing he had ever seen. Glancing speechlessly towards Zim in a state of utter confusion, he saw that the Irken, too, had in his hands a box with a similar-looking "pig" inside.

"What—" Dib began, but this time it was his turn to get cut off.

"WHAT IS THIS, GIR?!" Zim demanded, directing an angry finger at the box. GIR emitted another giggle, bending forwards innocently as he looked up at his master with wide, luminescent blue eyes and a protrudant tongue.

"I'z a piggy."

The Irken dropped the box to the floor with a clatter, though luckily the clay pig, while ill-formed, appeared to be indestructible. "I KNOW THAAAAAT!!" Zim snapped, although Dib suspected that he hadn't. The alien extended his arms in a show of frustration to all things small, gray-and-blue and named GIR. "But WHYYYYYY?!"

GIR clasped his hands together and straightened up, reciting mechanically. "Welllll, when a momma piggy an' a daddy piggy love each other a WHOOOOOOOOLE lot—"

It was Dib's secret pleasure that he now watched Zim completely lose his patience with the tiny robot. "But WHYYYYYYYYYYY," he enunciated meaningfully, "give one to ZIM and the _pathetic_ Earth boy?!"

There was a pause, and GIR took in a deep breath as he ran a search through his data canister. "'Cus Chrissmas," he replied, looking somewhere far above his audience's heads, "is a time of givin' gifts an' bein' with friendz an' eatin' _reeeeeal_ ol' fruitcake. I'z the time o' year where ev-er-y-ones is family, an' ev-er-y-ones looks out fer each other an' thinks of someone else before themselves. 'Cus ya never know when things is gonna be different, 'r when ye'r gonna die, 'r when ye'r gonna be vis-ee-ted by three ghosts who say ya gotta be nice ta peoples."

Zim and Dib looked on speechlessly at the tiny robot giving them the most moving lecture they'd ever heard in their lives. Even Zim, "mighty" Irken, had tears streaming down his small green face. "GIR—" he started meaningfully.

"_NOT DONE YET!!_" GIR screeched, silencing Zim immediately. He then resumed his kind and wise posture, continuing his speech.

"An' Chrissmas iz the one time o' year where evereyone c'n be happy an' peaceful. An' all yer wishes c'n come true if ye'r a good person an' ya save a fat guy in a red suit from drownin'. 'Cus whenever it'z snowin', everyone magically turns nice an' starts singin' alla' time. An' it's the time when li'l kids who're REAL sick have other peoples go on a journey fer 'em so they c'n get better. An' there're mooses that FLY!"

Dib paused as he heard this next installment in the dramatic monologue and started to have second thoughts about hearing the "meaning of Christmas" from this particular source. Zim, on the other hand, fell to his knees and started banging his fist on the floor, sobbing wildly. "STOP IT, GIR!!" he wailed piteously, choking on his own dark-colored tears. The sun was peeking just a little further over the horizon, giving the scene a mystical and almost corny look. "GIR, I cannot _staaaaand_ the weight of these EARTH morals! STOP IMMEDIA-A-A-ATELYYYYY!!"

"JUST A MINUTE!!" the little robot insisted shrilly, then cupped his hands together again as he continued.

"An' anyones who tries ta steal Chrissmas will learn how good it is instead! 'Cus Chrissmastimes izn't Halloween! 'R Labor Day! An' no one likes 'good ol' Charlie Brown'! 'Cept the tree that MAGICALLY gets big! An' ev'rybody turns inta' cartoon characters an' give each other presentses so malls c'n make money! An' there were TALKIN' COWS!!"

Zim was really losing it now, grabbing hold of GIR's metal foot as he continued to bawl loudly. "PLEASE STOP, GIIIIIIIIIIR!!" he insisted. "YOU'RE CAUSING INTERNAL BLEEDING TO MY SQUEEDLYSPOOCH! PLEEEEE-EE-EEASE STO-O-OPPPP!!"

"_AN'THERE'ZALOTOFGOODSTUFFSESINTHEWORLDAN'YAJUSTGOTTASEEITAN'THAT'ZWHATCHRISSMASIS_**THEEND!**" GIR finished in a single breath, then applauded himself wildly before running off and smashing himself into a wall.

Not even listening to the giggling gibberish GIR was spouting in the corner, Zim stood up, almost totally recomposed as if he hadn't just been sobbing his organs out a moment before. He and Dib looked at each other for a second, then both of them turned away. Instead, their eyes were drawn to the rising sun glistening off a blanket of undisturbed white snow spread out as far as the eye could see. The streets were quiet for the moment. In a few hours every block on the street would be lit up brighter than an arcade as people across the city, maybe even across the continent got up to open their Christmas presents. But for now, it was almost serene.

At length Dib heard a grumbling cough from somewhere to his right, and glanced over to see Zim staring a hole into the new dawn.

"Perrrrrhaps, eh, being Christmas and all," the Irken begrudged, scratching his chin impulsively and refusing to face Dib, "I _suppose_ I could HONOR you by allowing you the _privilege_ of having your ship repaired by the a_maaaa_zing Zim. BUT DON'T GET USED TO IT!"

Dib was more than a little surprised at this offer, but kept it off his face as best as he could. "Iiiiiiiin that case," he replied, affecting indifference, "I _guess_ I would have to lay off trying to prove you're an alien. Ehhh...just for one day, of course."

There was another microscopic silence, which Zim once again broke. "Don't think this has _changed_ anything, human," he remarked with a sort of airy detachment. "Your planet shall STILL fall to the brilliance of Zim."

Dib exhaled massively, and a hidden grin now emerged in its entirety. "Suuure it will, Zim. Suuuuuure it will."

They continued to watch the sun rise as Christmas Day officially broke. But not just for the two of them, standing there watching it. Not just for GIR, playing with the forgotten clay piggies.

For Gaz, tucked snugly in bed, hugging the vampire pig doll her brother had hidden as a Christmas present and smiling as she never did when she was awake.

For Professor Membrane, already hard at work at Membrane Labs genetically engineering a Christmas tree for his son and daughter.

For the Tallest, merrily blasting away at the Resisty ship and chowing down on Plookesian corn chips.

For Lard Nar, whose life at that moment wasn't very pleasant.

For Ms. Bitters, spending a not _terribly_ rotten morning with the only one she ever loved, "You-Know-Who".

For the children in the "underground classrooms", who were having a bit of trouble teaching Cerberus to "heel".

For Tak, testing out her new makeshift ship and starting the first day in too long where she wouldn't be obsessed with planning revenge on Zim.

For Skoodge, attempting to gain information from MiMi on the subject of "New Year's".

For the almost-doomed penguins, who miraculously survived the fall through an amazing coincidence that can't be explained but involved an interspatial wormhole, two tons of sour cream and a pair of pliers.

For those fans of "dark-and-cynical" _Zim_ who're retching their pancreases out reading this hopelessly sentimental list.

As the dawn of all these people's Christmases rose steadily above the horizon, Zim gave a huffy sort of snort and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Have a FILTHY Christmas, Dib," he muttered, although the position of his antennae betrayed the fact that he wasn't _quite_ as deprecating as he sounded.

Dib nodded brightly, not even pretending to be miserable. "Merry Christmas, Zim."

Without warning, GIR leapt up behind the two and wrapped his cordlike arms around Zim's and Dib's shoulders, hugging them gleefully. Zim grumbled and Dib winced slightly, but neither of them actually moved. Exuberant with joy, GIR stuck out his tongue again and yelled very, very loudly.

"MERRY CHRIS'MAS, EVERYBODY!!"

* * *

"_DECK the Earth with DOOM and Irkens, wa ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha haaa..."_

_Happy holidays, etc., etc. (FILTHY EARTH HOLIDAYS!!) __**Shut up, Zim!**__ Heh...sorry, it's just he's tied to a chair right now because of the "INCIDENT" with the plasma grenade and my _IZ_ DVDs...twitch..._

_OK, I REALLY hate doing author's notes in stories, since I think they detract from the story itself, but there's some stuff I have to clear up, sooooo..._

_FIRST AND FOREMOST: Anybody who's actually READ this whole thing must thank _avatarjk137_, without whom this story would not have been posted until NEXT Christmas. So, a very huge THANK YOOOOOOOU!! to avatar for helping me with the big battle scene starting in chapter 5 and for giving me the idea to use the Cruiser's energy pods and the claws on Tak's old ship. I am eternally in your debt...except, y'know, I won't help you hide any bodies. _

_SECOND: The ending is NOT, and should not be construed as, a ZADR moment. I am firmly of the (stubborn) opinion that if Zim didn't want to destroy the humans, and if Dib didn't want to save the humans and kill Zim, they could be great friends, but not quite so far as to have a romantic relationship. Yes, yes, extenuating circumstances, but see how well they work together in "Bolognius Maximus". (LIEEEEESSS!!) __**Shut up, Zim!**_

_THIRD: On a related note, there's no "underlying ship" going on with the Tak and Skoodge scene at the beginning of chapter 6—she was just embarrassed 'cus she spent that whole time chewing him out and then then she realized that he'd just done something nice for her. I just needed to write about Tak's Christmas, and about Skoodge's, so I saved time and smushed their scenes together. As for the circumstances that brought them there...well, think up your own ideas. Any ZATRers and DATRers would assert that Tak somehow made her way to Earth, and according to the unfinished episode "Day of Da Spookies", Skoodge is also on the planet. I MIGHT deal with how Tak got there, but anyone else is welcome to give their own opinions._

_LASTLY: Speaking of Skoodge, I'm working as an agent for the secret fundraising organization for "Save Invader Skoodge" __**(SIS)**__. This week we're trying to raise enough cash to remove him from the inner workings of a Zargothian meat grinder. Irken monies are accepted, as well as any organ donations. Skoodge might be running a little short soon._

_Thank you for reading, and, to quote my pal _Marz the green planet_, Merry Chrismahanakwanzaadan!_


End file.
